


Climbing Uphill

by MackenzieW



Category: Smash (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-07-28
Updated: 2014-05-03
Packaged: 2017-11-10 22:56:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 26,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/471620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MackenzieW/pseuds/MackenzieW
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After her episode at "Heaven on Earth," Ivy founds herself without a job and with a tarnished reputation. The career she always wanted is slipping from her grasp as is the chance to play Marilyn. It's time to pick herself up and prove to everyone she is a true leading lady.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: MackenzieW does not own the characters and plots of the show “Smash.” It is owned by NBC Universal and associated production companies. 
> 
> Author’s Note: I’m diving into the world of “Smash” fanfiction. While I like the show, characterization swings wildly depending on what the story calls for—especially Ivy’s. After her escapade at “Heaven on Earth,” I felt she had such a great storyline—someone once on top now having to claw her way back. Proving herself to be professional still and becoming a better leading lady for it. Not constantly trying to undermine Karen to do so either. And that would make her an even more interesting character, in my opinion.

### Chapter One

Dull throbbing woke her. Pressure rested against her forehead, waiting for something to relieve it. A hole, perhaps, drilled right between her eyes. Lifting her head from the pillow, she opened her eyes. Blue eyes were naturally sensitive to light, even more when pain engulfed her brain. The added nausea felt like a cherry on top of a pain sundae. Don’t think of food! Her eyes snapped shut again. 

Resting her head on the pillow, Ivy Lynn took several deep breaths and waited for her stomach to settle. As it calmed, the woman tried opening her eyes again. Blinking a few times, her stomach remained still. It was a small victory and Ivy took it. She would win the war. She just needed a weapon to fight the pulsating pain driving her mad. 

_One step at a time,_ she told herself pushing back her pink comforter. Swinging her legs over the side, Ivy tested their strength. Though shaky, they held her weight. Walking to her vanity was another battle. Ivy lived in a small apartment and the trek took two long strides. Today, she took baby steps. 

Leave it to Iowa to not put out something for a hangover. Probably doesn’t even get them. Goes out drinking and wakes up bubbly as ever. Ivy sorted through her various pill bottles, wondering which was appropriate for pain. 

Staring in her mirror, for once she didn’t see the pictures of Marilyn taped to the glass. Only Ivy stared back. With blonde hair knotted into a rat’s nest, skin sallow and dark circles around her eyes, she presented an off-putting sight. “You look mahvelous, dahling,” she said to her reflection, rolling her eyes. Grimacing as a stale taste filled her mouth, Ivy abandoned her quest for painkillers in favor of her toothbrush. 

Mouth scrubbed and tasting of mint, Ivy’s footing grew surer as she entered her kitchen. A glass of water and a bottle of aspirin sat on her counter like a present from Santa Claus. Maybe Iowa isn’t completely clueless. 

A crisp white paper was folded between the glass and bottle. Using two fingers, Ivy removed it. Sam’s familiar handwriting was sprawled across the page. 

_Ivy,_

_Karen let Tom and me in as she left. Hope you don’t mind, we just wanted to make sure you were safe. You scared us! Tom even left his Republican boyfriend’s fundraiser for you. Anyway, I took off your angel costume—don’t think it would’ve been comfortable to sleep in. I put it in your closet. You need to return that immediately. Feel better._

_Sam (and Tom)_

Looking down, Ivy realized she was in an oversized black t-shirt. She recognized it as an old production shirt from years ago. Its logo had faded from constant wear and washing. I must be really out of it to notice I’m no longer wearing wings. Downing two pills and the glass of water, she started to feel better. 

Until the phone rang. 

As she ate her omelet, Ivy stared at it with fearful eyes. No doubt her mother had heard and was calling with a lecture. Fork forcefully digging into her breakfast, the call was sent to her voicemail. 

“Miss Lynn, this is Ashley calling from Equity. We need to speak with…”

“Hello?” Ivy’s voice was breathless as she hung over her counter. “Yes, I understand.” A pause. “An hour? Yes, I can be there.”

Showered and dressed, Ivy left holding her angel costume across her arms, halo in a bag dangling from her wrist. 

  


When she returned to her apartment, Ivy slammed her front door. She was expecting the fine. Expected them to write her up. Not to suspend her, to keep her from doing what she loved. Ivy threw her purse, the thud as it hit the floor hollow in her ears. “This isn’t fair!” she yelled into the empty space. 

It didn’t help either. 

Flopping onto her bed, Ivy groaned. They were exaggerating. They had to be. Just using her as an example to the others, no doubt. 

Convinced that was it, Ivy rolled over and stared at her ceiling. As she watched it, the white began rushing up to her. She needed to leave this apartment. 

Ivy snatched up her purse from where it had landed. Fishing through it, she found her newly returned phone. Several voicemail messages awaited her. The first was the assistant stage manager and was quickly deleted. The others she played. 

“Ivy, it’s Tom. Please call me as soon as you get this. I’m really worried about you.” There was some mumbling in the background. “Sam’s worried about you too. Call us.” 

“Ivy, bloody hell, what is going on? I’ve got people calling and texting asking if I’ve seen you. Call me.” 

“Hey, Ivy, it’s Sam. Look, it’s getting serious. I am holding Tom hostage until you call me. I will torture him by making him watch a game. Call me.” 

“Hi…Hi, Ivy, it’s Karen. Look, I know you said we weren’t friends but…I just want to make sure you’re okay. It can just be a text, please. Thanks.”

Ivy deleted all these messages, hands shaking. So many people so concerned for her? Why? She wasn’t a star, only a chorus member. Who cared about a chorus member? 

  


“Oh praise the Lord, she lives!” Sam hugged Ivy tight. “We were really worried about you.” 

Smiling, she returned it. “Sorry about that. It was a rough night.” 

“Clearly, if you ended up relying on Karen Cartwright for help.” 

Ivy laughed. “I know, right? Put a little alcohol in her and she’s not so bad. Get this, she actually called to make sure I was all right. She’s some sort of Rodgers and Hammerstein heroine.” 

“That’s true,” Sam said. “Maybe she’ll get cast in a revival of Oklahoma. We’ve already got Marilyn.” 

Ivy pouted. “Yes, some movie star. Not me.” 

Sam held her hand. “Don’t worry. Once you’re back in rehearsals, you’ll claw your way back to the top in no time.”

“Whenever rehearsals start again,” she said wistfully. 

An odd look crossed Sam’s face. “You haven’t heard?”

“Heard what?” 

“Uh, nothing.” Sam busied himself with their newly arrived food. “Can you pass the ketchup?” 

Ivy narrowed her eyes. “Not until you explain what you meant.”

Sam sighed, throwing down his fork in defeat. “Fine. I heard that Rebecca Duvall is definitely interested in Marilyn. They’re starting up the rehearsals again. Everyone’s been contacted.” 

“Except me.” Ivy pouted. 

“Now don’t feel bad. I’m sure it has more to do with your suspension than anything else. Once that’s over, you’ll get a call. Trust me.” 

Ivy nodded, convinced that was it. Once her suspension was finished, she would be called back to work. Back to Marilyn. Back to being on top. Happy with that thought, Ivy dug into her own food. 

  


She spent the next few days getting back into good form. Dance lessons, vocal training, gym workouts. It felt good. And for those days, she found she didn’t need the pills. Her mind was clearer than it had been since rehearsals began. 

It was in this state that Ivy met Tom at a nearby smoothie place. Coincidental, but not unwelcome. With a genuine smile, she raced up to her friend. Throwing arms around him, Ivy squeezed. Tom returned the hug. 

“Hey stranger,” she said brightly. “I’ve missed you. It seems you’ve been avoiding me lately.” 

“I didn’t think you wanted to see me. After all, I was the one who told you you weren’t going to be a star.” 

“And you thought I hated you?” Ivy was surprised. “I believe in the phrase ‘Don’t shoot the messenger,’ Tom. I could never hate you.” ,/p>

Tom relaxed. “Thanks, Ivy. I guess I was acting foolish.”

“Drama queen,” Ivy teased. “So, how’s Marilyn?”

“You mean Bombshell,” Tom corrected. 

“Oh, is that the new title?” When Tom nodded, Ivy smiled. “I love it! You’re a genius, Tom.” 

Tom blushed. “Thanks, but I can’t take the credit. Not even partial credit. The title is completely, one hundred percent Julia’s brilliance.” 

“Well, she is lucky to have such a great writing partner.” Ivy looped her arm through Tom’s. “I’m looking forward, then, to being a part of Bombshell.” 

Her companion grew silent. Ivy waited for him to say something. With each passing second, her smile grew falser. “What’s wrong, Tom?”

The skinny man beside her stopped his trek. Looking over her shoulder, he guided her until her legs hit the metal of a bench. Knees buckling, Ivy collapsed onto the wooden seat. Tom sat down next to her, sighing. “If you didn’t hate me before, you will now.” 

“I’m not going to be in Bombshell, am I?” Ivy’s tone was flat. She had lived and breathed Marilyn Monroe for the past few months. Now, it was in vain. Tom’s face was all the confirmation she needed. His eyes were sad and he was frowning. 

“It’s not that we don’t want you. We do. You would not believe the debate we had over it.”

“But I’m still not in it.” 

Tom shook his head. “I am sorry, Ivy. But your behavior at Heaven on Earth cannot be brushed aside. You’re a liability now.”

Ivy’s mouth dropped open. “It was one time! Why am I to be punished for one time?” 

“Is it really just one time?” 

Shocked and angered, Ivy defended herself. “Why would you think otherwise?”

“Sam’s concerned. He told me about the pharmacy you were carrying in your bags. Ivy, I’m not speaking as the composer. I’m speaking as your friend. You are courting trouble.”

The blonde woman stood up. “For your information, I haven’t taken those pills in days. I am fine. And I am perfect for Bombshell.” 

Tom stood as well, looking Ivy right in the eye. “I believe you. Prove it to the doubters.” 

  


Ivy returned to her apartment, angrier than ever. Prove it to the doubters. Who are the doubters? Why are there doubters? 

The blonde actress began pacing her small apartment, kitchen to bedroom. She was talented. Everyone knew it. Julia and Tom wanted her to be Marilyn from the beginning. Though briefly distracted by Iowa’s doe eyes, Derek wanted her to be Marilyn in the end. Everyone involved in Marilyn told her she was talented—even Karen had to acknowledge she was the better actress. And the critics! They had praised her in their reviews of the workshop. 

So, who were the doubters? Ivy had the overwhelming need to know. Pulling her laptop out, she logged quickly onto the internet. She had never searched for herself before on the internet. It was something people like Karen did, looking for any sign of their growing popularity. 

But people with the power did the same. It was on the news all the time, employers searching the internet for more information on current and potential employees. That was what Eileen and the investors were. They would do their research on their star, right? So it made sense for her to find what they were reading. 

It was no surprise when the first results to pop up were Broadway sites after typing in her name. She’d have been worried if they weren’t. Clicking on one she recognized as a prominent message board, Ivy scanned for her name. Spotting one thread devoted to her, she clicked it. 

And regretted it. Someone disobeyed the rules and filmed her drunken antics at Heaven on Earth. Ivy expected the others to admonish the user for doing so, but found nothing. Only comments she wished she hadn’t read. 

_“I think someone’s taking playing Marilyn a little too far.”_

_She’s not even playing Marilyn anymore! Rumor has it they want Rebecca Duvall to play the role.”_

_“Maybe Miss Lynn is trying to callback to the Golden Age of Broadway. Didn’t many actresses and actors go out drunk? Back then, though, they could still act.”_

_“Give the woman a break! She had one bad day. Please.”_ (Ivy liked that poster). 

_“One bad day? Nice try. I was at Heaven on Earth a few days ago. I watch the video of Ivy Lynn singing that Marilyn song (something about never giving all the heart?) all the time. So I was excited when I heard that she was back in Heaven on Earth. Imagine my surprise when instead of a consummate Broadway performer, I got a toddler having a temper tantrum! She pouted, rolled her eyes and just looked like she wanted to be someplace else.”_

_“I agree with the poster above me. I was at the same performance and think ‘toddler having a temper tantrum’ perfectly describes her.”_

_“I know it’s not allowed, but did anyone film this temper tantrum? I want to see it!”_

Slamming the lid of her laptop, Ivy felt rage boil up inside her. How dare they say that about her? They didn’t know her. Didn’t know how she felt. What it was like to go from the very top back to the very bottom. To have your dream dangled before you and then cruelly yanked away. “People certainly know how to kick a dog when it’s down.” 

“Some people think it is fun.” 

Ivy sat up on her bed. Derek Wills stood in her bedroom doorway, staring at her. A five o’clock shadow already was on his face. His hands were shoved in his coat pockets. “Hi.” 

“Hi.” Ivy smiled. “What brings you here?”

Derek smiled cheekily. “I thought you’d want some…cheering up.” 

Laughter echoed about the room as Derek jumped onto her bed. He scooped Ivy into his arms. “How am I doing?”

“So far so good. But I know what can make it better.” 

Derek’s eyebrow rose. “Oh?”

Ivy smiled coyly before lifting her head. Closing the gap, she kissed him. The two fell back on the bed, never breaking their liplock. Derek’s hand bunched her shirt up, eager to get to the smooth skin underneath. Ivy followed his lead, unbuttoning his own shirt. Trailing kisses, Derek began nibbling on her ear. “I approve.”

  


Later, Ivy studied Derek as he slept. In the fading sunlight, he looked glorious. It illuminated his brown hairs, standing in all directions. His chest rose and fell in a familiar rhythm. He looked so innocent while he slept, not at all like the tyrannical director who barked and insulted his way through rehearsals. She felt privileged to be the one who got to see him like this, the one he allowed himself to be vulnerable around. 

Let the internet keep its opinion. Ivy was a leading lady. 


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I’ve assumed that Ivy only uses her first and middle names professionally and that “Conroy” was her mother’s maiden name. So I made up her father’s name. And that he wasn’t part of the show business world.

### Chapter Two

It was Day Seven of her suspension and Ivy believed she was going insane. People looked forward to breaks from work, she knew. Crossed off the days in anticipation. Talked about with coworkers. Happily raced home the day before leaving. What did that say about their jobs? Were they in careers they loved then, if they wanted breaks from it? 

She couldn’t imagine it. Working nine to five counting beans or pushing papers. People actually did that and, from what Ivy gathered, liked it. The same thing, day in and day out. Outsiders may think that’s what it was like to do a Broadway show. Singing the same songs, saying the same lines, dancing the same choreography, on and on. But they didn’t understand the theater, the idea of performing live. Every performance was different. 

There wasn’t one big thing Ivy could say changed day-to-day. It was the little things. The way the audience reacted. Addition of an understudy or a swing amongst other cast changes. Something going wrong—a cue failing, a wardrobe malfunction, and other challenges actors faced. 

Actors! Their individual performances changed as they were humans, not robots. While they did not vary wildly, it was rare to find someone who said the line the same way every show or sang the same way each time. Ivy knew she didn’t. It depended on how she felt that day. The incident about a month ago had been her worst throat infection, not her first. Her doctor would be horrified to know how many nights she went on when prescribed vocal rest. But on those nights, she sang safe—didn’t strain for top notes, didn’t attempt a full belt and other tricks to preserve her voice. 

But truthfully, Ivy missed her family. Not her parents, though she did need to call her father. The theater was its own family. A dysfunctional one, but a family nonetheless. She thought back to only the week prior. It was her theater family who had helped her that night. 

She missed that family. It was strange. Equity suspended her from Heaven on Earth, not from the theater world in general. But people weren’t returning her calls. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Sam did as well as Tom. And Derek…

A small smile graced Ivy’s face. Derek had been wonderful since her suspension. He made sure to eat at least one meal with her during rehearsals. During them, he spoke about Bombshell, keeping her informed of everything that was happening. It was almost like being there, she found. 

Derek often turned to her for help in his research for the show. The reading kept her busy. Sometimes, as she found herself surrounded by Marilyn’s life, it was depressing. They were reminders that she wasn’t the lead. But they were interesting. Ivy felt a kinship with the doomed starlet. Their lives were near parallels to the point it scared her. 

But all those negative feelings disappeared in Derek’s company. In his smile when she answered a question he had. How he held her when testing out new blocking. Or danced with her, working out problems with the choreography. The kisses he bestowed upon her as rewards. It made her feel special, loved. 

Those feelings were hard to come by, she found nowadays. On Day Eight, she went for a stroll through Shubert Alley. It was dangerous to be so close to Heaven on Earth but not illegal. And Ivy felt better to at least be in Times Square, the theater district, even if she couldn’t be on stage. 

Ivy sat at one of the tables set up by the Bloomberg administration. The lights from the video screens and advertisements shone down like a rainbow. Entranced, she watched them all, even the ad for “Casual Friday 2.” Grimacing as Rebecca Duvall’s face filled the screen, Ivy looked away. 

Her face lit up as Jessica came running toward her. The actress’ blonde hair trailed behind her as she darted between the tables and theater-goers pouring into the streets. Plopping down, Jessica’s smile made Ivy feel better. “Hey, girl! Miss you at Heaven. No one to talk to between the numbers.” 

“You can talk to anyone,” Ivy relied. “But I appreciate the sentiment. Anything new?” 

Jessica shrugged. “The usual. Derek’s being impossible, Karen’s too frightened and Rebecca’s simply awful.” 

“She can’t be that bad.” 

“Oh, yes, she can. She shanghaied Linda into making her her smoothies because her assistants were busy with other tasks for her.”

“No!” Ivy’s mouth fell open. “What did Derek do?” 

“Yelled at her, naturally. Someone must’ve complained to Eileen because now Ellis is making her smoothies.” 

Ivy giggled, covering her mouth with a gloved hand. “Oh, poor Ellis. Is she getting better?” 

Jessica shrugged. “They’ve lowered the key and I heard she got a vocal coach. I mean, Rebecca’s no longer subscribing to the Rex Harrison School of Singing, but she’s nowhere near you. She’s not even near Karen.” 

Ivy shrugged. “Come on, you have to be exaggerating.” 

Her friend shook her head. “Karen’s a good singer. And a pretty decent dancer. She just needs more experience.” 

“I guess.”

Jessica leaned forward, urging Ivy to do the same. “I heard a story that a few years ago, the leading lady couldn’t sing. She still went on in the role with her understudy singing in the wings for her. Maybe they can do that. Send Rebecca out to deliver lines and let everyone dance around her. Then Karen could sing for her.” 

“I like that solution.” Ivy and Jessica laughed. 

Pushing her chair back, Jessica stood up. “Come on. It’s nighttime in New York City and we’re young. Let’s go out and be young!” 

“Why not?” Ivy stood as well. “I could use a drink.” 

“Falling off the wagon so soon?” A high snide voice froze Ivy more than the wintery winds blowing through Times Square. 

Pivoting on her heels, Ivy faced down Avis Johnson. Avis was a chorus girl in Heaven on Earth. Tall, busty and raven-haired, Ivy was jealous of the girl’s beauty. She could play any of Marilyn’s brunette contemporaries; Avis had that timeless look. Beauty wasn’t the only thing she offered, though. The woman had a beautiful soprano voice that suited many ingénue roles. She was also an incredibly talented dancer as well as an actress with great comedic timing. Once she had done her time in the chorus, Ivy had no doubt that Avis would be in demand. 

The problem was she knew this. It gave Avis an air of arrogance that annoyed most of her costars. She believed herself better than them and now was no different. Ivy wished she could smack the smug look off her face but knew it wouldn’t help her suspension. 

“I’m not an alcoholic, Avis.” 

“Really? There’s video proof of the opposite online.” 

Jessica stepped between the two actresses. The top of her head came only up to the brunette’s chin. Hands on her hips, Jessica looked up into Avis’ eyes. “Ivy’s not an alcoholic. There’s nothing wrong with getting a drink with friends every now and then.” 

The smirk remained fixed on Avis’ face. “It’s not my career.” She shrugged. “Have fun, ladies.” 

Ivy watched Avis walk away. Her stiletto heeled boots clicked against the concrete. The blonde wished she would hit a patch of black ice as an audience looked on. A tumble to the ground would do the woman good. Nothing to injure her—as a dancer herself, Ivy never wished that on anybody—but enough to bruise her ego. 

“Stop thinking about her.” Jessica grabbed her companion’s arm. “Let’s go. I know a good place a few blocks up. And the DJ is pretty cute.” 

Removing her arm from Jessica’s grasp, Ivy shook her head. “Not tonight, Jess. I’m going home. You have fun. See you later.” 

Despite her friend’s protests, Ivy left Times Square. Left the lights and the marquees. Left the crowded streets. And just walked. Normally she’d take public transportation, but not tonight. Tonight, she wanted the time to think. 

  


The city at night was beautiful, even away from the busy lights. People who weren’t familiar with Manhattan were surprised when they stumbled across a quiet residential neighborhood. Ivy liked them; they were respites from the hectic city life everyone knew. She walked in the harsh orange glow of the streetlamps, passing picturesque buildings with dark windows. 

Ivy liked to imagine she lived in one. That she was a famous actress and could afford the rent. She had a color scheme chosen for every room and read furniture catalogues. Beneath her bed was a shoebox filled with cut-out pictures of her favorite items. When she had a place of her own, she’d buy them and decorate the house. Her awards would be spread out across the house as her mantle, unlike her mother’s, was to be reserved for pictures of her family. 

And Ivy wanted one. They featured prominently in her fantasies, especially with that imaginary mantle. There were several pictures displayed there. The most prominent was a family portrait. Ivy sat in a chair, hair still golden in color. Blonde children stood around her, two girls and two boys. Her husband stood behind her, hand on her shoulder. Husband. She didn’t know if she wanted one who worked in the industry, like Derek, or was an outsider, like her father. Both worked and both failed, she knew. 

Thinking of her father, she looked at her cell phone. He had called her that afternoon. It had been a surprise; she was anticipating a call from her mother. But Jack Thompson was going to be in the city the following day and wanted to treat his only daughter to lunch. She was excited yet nervous. What did he know? And what would he say? No doubt her mother had seen the video Avis mentioned. Her father probably had as well. 

It was clear the neighborhood was not going to calm her tonight. Pulling her coat tighter, Ivy walked home. Her apartment was only a few blocks over and at her pace, the journey was quick. Turning in, Ivy worried about the next day. 

  


The sun shone brightly as Ivy emerged from the subway station, passing the dark green metal fence the city erected around the entrances. Downtown Manhattan seemed a different beast than midtown. More skyscrapers, less neon lights. Amongst the skyscrapers were buildings that had seen the city through the Revolution. When Ivy had first moved to Manhattan, her roommate had been a grad student studying American history at New York University. The woman had gone on about the history that had occurred on that end of the island. Ivy retaliated by going on about theater and she hoped to this day, the woman still thought of her every time she walked by a theater. 

Ivy walked down the narrow streets of the financial center, reading the address printed on her cell phone screen. Her father wrote it was a red brick building, but so far, that described most of the ones she had passed. And some had ways of hiding their addresses, to her displeasure. She didn’t want to be late, not with everything else going on. 

“Ivy! Ivy, over here!” A man across the street was waving his arm. He was tall with a head of graying blond hair, wearing a long black coat tied around the middle, dark suit pants sticking out underneath. Jack Thompson was a handsome man who got better looking with age. It was no surprise her mother fell in love with him. 

And it wasn’t just his looks. Jack was a savvy, intelligent businessman who had climbed the corporate ladder very quickly. Or, as a colleague once told her, “rode the escalator to the top.” 

She asked her father his secret once. He smiled. “Patience. It’s the secret to everything. My marriage to your mother and my career. That and knowing how to pick my battles.” He winked before hugging her. The advice stayed with her. 

Crossing the street, Ivy flew into her father’s waiting embrace. He held her tightly. Ivy relaxed into his hold, eyes closed. She felt like nothing could harm her in these arms. “I’ve missed you,” she muttered into his coat. 

He chuckled. “Missed you too, Princess.” She felt him kiss the top of her head. “Come on, let’s go get something to eat.” 

Ivy slipped a hand into the crook of his arm and let him escort her to a nearby restaurant. Lunch proceeded pleasantly and Ivy felt herself relax, though she noticed he didn’t discuss Bombshell with her. He didn’t discuss anything related to theater with her. Instead, he spoke of her brother’s struggles in the economy, her mother’s latest attempts to take over the community theater program, his golf game. Town gossip and news, punctuated with “Oh, you would never believe who I ran into!” 

Halfway through her entrée, Ivy had had enough. Fork clanging onto her plate, she fixed her father with a glare. “Okay, can we just get it over with?” 

“Get what over with?”

“The lecture. I know it is coming.” 

Sighing, her father also put down his fork. “I know what happened at Heaven on Earth.” 

“So does Mom, I guess?” 

He shook his head. “I didn’t tell her. Your brother and I agreed it was for the best.” 

“For her?”

“For you.” He took her hand. “It must have been difficult going from being the star to back in the chorus. I remember the last time this happened.” 

“You mean in high school, when Janie Robinson’s dad paid our drama teacher to give her the lead? This is different.” 

Jack bit his lip. “Darling, for the last time, Mr. Robinson did not buy his daughter the role. She was originally offered it before she had her tonsils removed. When her doctor cleared her to sing, the teacher wanted to give her the lead as she was a senior. Just like the following year, when you were a senior, you got to be the star. 

“In a lot of ways, you are like your mother.” Ivy rolled her eyes and her father chuckled. “I know you don’t want to hear it, but it’s true. You both know your talents and refuse to accept anything less than what you deserve. But also don’t have the patience.” 

“What?” Ivy’s voice had gone higher. “Ten years in the chorus. I think I showed enough patience. This was my time.”

“It was your time but sometimes fate can be cruel. It’s how we handle our disappointment that says a lot about us.” 

Eyes cast down, Ivy couldn’t deny the truth of her father’s statement. That was one thing she loved about him. He always made her see reason—whether she wanted to or not. 

James’ tone softened. “So, any men I need to worry about hurting my little girl?” 

With a laugh, Ivy let the conversation go in another direction. 

  


Returning to her apartment, her father’s words replayed in Ivy’s head. She had handled her disappointment well, right? _Not according to everyone else_ , said a small voice in her head. 

“They don’t know what they are talking about.” Ivy didn’t care she was talking to herself. 

_Or are you in denial?_

“I am not in denial!” 

_Then watch the video. What harm will it do?_

“Fine! I’ll watch the damn video! Happy?” 

She marched to her laptop, booting it up. It was taking forever to her impatient mind and she drummed her manicured nails against her kitchen table. The sooner she saw this, the sooner her doubts would disappear. 

Going to a website she knew had a link to the video, Ivy took a deep breath. This could change everything, she felt. Or it could change nothing. Eyes closed, she clicked the link. 

  


Lying on her bed, she stared at her white ceiling. Maybe she should paint it. Was that acceptable under her lease? She made a note to ask her landlord about it. Or at least her building supervisor. Perhaps a nice pink color—she favored the color. She could paint an entire mural on there. After all, Ivy was going to have the time. 

The video proved Avis correct. For now, it annoyed Ivy more than anything. Even the performance she saw captured on video. It was easy to pretend that it was someone else. Another blonde chorus girl acting a fool. Making those silly faces and laughing while the others were singing. Falling out of step, tripping over her feet. Thrown off the stage by a Tony-winning actor. 

It was humiliating. 

Humiliating to the blonde on the video. 

Humiliating to Ivy. 

Rolling over, Ivy felt the sobs get stuck in her throat. The truth hurt. The truth was cruel. Because the truth was Ivy had acted a drunken fool. 

As she lay still, face buried in a pillow, her father’s words came back to haunt her. It’s how we handle our disappointment that says a lot about us. She had the right to be disappointed. Years of hard work and determination were behind her. Dues paid in the chorus. At audition after audition. The pinnacle was in sight—she was almost there. But she had been sent back to base camp once again. So, yes, she had to the right to be disappointed. 

But she didn’t have the right to let the disappointment affect her professional life. Rage in her apartment, yes. Take out her frustrations at the gym, yes. Rant to a friend, yes. Get drunk with friends on her off time, yes. But never to show it at work. 

A memory flashed in her mind. From when she first checked the internet, all those days ago, when she was reading the message board. The comment about her looking like a toddler throwing a tantrum…She knew it was true. No wonder she wasn’t allowed to work on Bombshell. If she had behaved like that when she was demoted, how would she handle the stress of being a leading lady? 

  


Ivy didn’t realize she had fallen asleep until she opened her eyes and saw it was night. Sitting up, she rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Her stomach rumbled, reminding her it had been hours since her lunch with her father. Not in the mood to cook—and feeling overwhelmed in her apartment—Ivy shrugged on her coat before running a brush through her hair. Some night air and food would do her good. 

It was a calm winter night. The coldest part of New York City winters was the wind, which could make it feel upwards of ten degrees colder than it really was. Buildings in Manhattan turned the streets into wind funnels, giving the gusts more power. When it was calm, like this night, it was tolerable. So tolerable, she forgot about her hunger for some time. She just walked around the Manhattan streets, wishing she could see the stars. If she couldn’t be one…

Sighing, she grew aware of her surroundings. A Chinese takeout place was up ahead. With the day she had, Ivy decided she could cheat this one time. It had been ages since she had some good Chinese. 

Approaching the open door, she saw the back of a brunette woman. She was tall and willowy, reminding Ivy of a dancer. When the woman turned, Ivy bit back a groan. Karen Cartwright, of all people, was at the same Chinese place? Perhaps it wasn’t too late. She was standing on a corner, after all. Crossing the street would be easy. There were hundreds of Chinese food places in Manhattan. But she was rooted in place, forcing her to come face to face with her rival. 

Karen, for her part, was surprised to see the other actress. “Ivy! Hi.”

“Hi,” Ivy squeezed out. 

A British accented voice drifted from inside the restaurant. “Darling? Is everything all right?” It stopped Ivy’s heart for a few seconds. Though the voice was different, the accent reminded her of Derek. Perhaps it was paranoia, but she saw the director and the actress together. Or maybe it was just Derek’s personality. 

“It’s okay,” Karen called into the restaurant. But her companion exited anyway. He was about Karen’s height and of Indian descent. His dark eyes looked between Karen and Ivy. 

Feeling nervous, Ivy extended a hand. “Ivy.”

The man shook her hand. “Dev.” He looked her over. “Ivy as in the one who—?” 

“Played Marilyn in the workshop? Yes, and she was amazing.” Karen flashed a dazzling smile. 

For the first time, Ivy was grateful for Karen’s Midwestern charm. She had an idea of what Dev was going to say—the one who was replaced? The one who flamed out on stage? Forcing a smile on her face, Ivy thanked the other woman before turning back to Dev. “It’s great to finally meet you. Karen’s told us all about you.” 

Dev smiled. “Glad to hear it.” He squeezed Karen tightly. She glowed from his attention, blushing as well. 

Something clutched Ivy’s heart and was squeezing. It twisted the organ, making each breath a struggle. Through this, she managed to keep her smile. “Well, don’t let me hold you up. I’m sure you have more plans this evening.” 

Karen’s look was solemn though. “Do you have plans? We wouldn’t mind company.” 

Pity. Karen Cartwright pitied her. That knowledge surprised Ivy. Flames of anger consumed the surprise. “No, thank you. I’m just getting dinner before going home for an early night. Things to do tomorrow. Have a good night.” 

Ivy pushed past the couple, refusing to look back to see if they had gone. She got her food, taking time to check the accuracy of the order. Once she had used up her excuses to prolong her presence in the restaurant—short of eating there—Ivy finally left. Thankfully, Karen and Dev were gone. 

  


Back in her apartment, Ivy ate her dinner but barely tasted it due to her anger. Karen Cartwright. In a city of one million, she ran into Karen. Who pitied her! Karen, who came from Iowa knowing next to nothing about the theater! Karen, who had vied for a leading role without any professional experience! Karen, who had only made the ensemble in the end! Karen, who made so many mistakes in rehearsal! Karen, who had to show her Marilyn’s vibrato. Karen, who kept rehearsing even when she got something wrong. Karen, who didn’t flame out on stage. Karen, who was now the Marilyn understudy. Karen, who was going to be the star when Rebecca didn’t pan out. 

Pushing aside her food, Ivy found her anger had given away to pity. Yes, she pitied herself. And if she did, how could she be upset that Karen did so as well? 

Ivy decided that it was best if she went to sleep now. She recognized the dark, downward spiral she was hiding on. Her vow to not use the sleeping pills played in her mind as she climbed into bed. Praying for a peaceful slumber, Ivy turned off the lights. 


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been a while, but I've been busy. I hope the chapter was worth the wait!

### Chapter Three

Ivy was in a funk for a few days afterward. She rarely left the apartment and spent the days in her pajamas. Derek was busy tending to Rebecca “Role-Stealer” Duvall. She didn’t care. It was another excuse not to leave.

Lounging around, Ivy watched a lot of TV. She didn’t have the time when working so she decided to catch up. And there were so many to watch. Ivy didn’t know where to begin. Closing her eyes, she chose a channel at random.

“Maybe that’s what I need to do.” She addressed the air after a marathon of some medical drama. “Change up my medium. Go into television.”

It was an idea. Maybe even a good idea. Her reputation in theater circles was tarnished though not ruined. She believed time away was needed to help restore it. And perhaps she needed a change of scenery as well as new social circles. The theater was such a small community. It would do her well to interact with new people. People who didn’t know the name Leigh Conroy.

Television was tempting. Musical series were starting to become popular; Ivy believed she could easily get cast on one of them. Lounging on the couch, she imagined her life.

  


_Ivy was making a triumphant return to New York City. She had finished the latest season of her critically acclaimed musical dramedy series. Critics and fans alike loved her character, an aspiring singer working at a cabaret until she gets discovered. The woman had unresolved sexual tension with one of the male performers but was dating a handsome businessman. The role brought her attention; Variety was filled with reports of studios seeking her for different movie roles. And E! News was calling constantly to ask about her supposed relationship with George Clooney._

Ivy always refused to comment about her love life.

She stood in the penthouse she was renting while in Manhattan. It had a glorious view of Manhattan. The green of the trees looked like a painting. Framing it were the gleaming skyscrapers of Manhattan’s skyline. Birds swooped between them, soaring over the park. Everything was peaceful.

“Ivy?” Ellis stood in the room, PDA in hand. She had hired him as her assistant before leaving New York for Los Angeles. He had proven himself and was now her manager. Ivy couldn’t ask for a better one.

“Yes?” she responded.

“Versace and Vivienne Westwood have both sent over dresses they wish you to wear while out on your appearances here in the city. Do you wish to see them?”

Clapping in excitement, Ivy raced off to her bedroom. Ellis followed, sharing her enthusiasm. “These are just a few samples. Others have expressed interest but I didn’t want to overwhelm you.”

“It would be the Golden Globes all over again!” Ivy giggled at the memory. Minutes before she was supposed to walk down the red carpet, she still hadn’t decided between a gorgeous pink chartreuse mermaid gown and a classic black A-line silk number. In the end, she decided on a red satin stunner with a heart shaped bodice and thigh-high slit. She wowed and topped the best-dressed lists.

Ellis took the dresses off the bed. “You need to get ready. Your dinner with Tom, Julia and Eileen is in a half hour.”

“Of course. What do you think they wish to discuss?”

Scoffing, Ellis sat down. Ivy followed suit, knowing this meant the man had good gossip to share. He leaned forward. “The Marilyn music is still in dire straits. I’ve kept tabs on it while you were in LA. Rebecca grew tired of waiting to go to Broadway. Rumor has it she’s walking and about to sign on for a new movie.”

“So they need a Marilyn?” Ellis nodded. Ivy’s eyebrow rose. “What about Karen?”

“She’s still too green. And I heard she’s focused on wedding plans rather than Marilyn. Will probably abandon the stage for wedded bliss.” Ellis leaned forward. “Besides, you were always perfect for Marilyn.”

Ivy beamed.

She arrived at the restaurant in a limo. People’s heads turned and whispers began as she walked through the dining room. They were staring and Ivy loved it. She sashayed up to the table where Eileen, Julia, Tom and Derek sat. The men jumped up as she approached, Tom reaching her first. He engulfed her in a hug. “I’ll pay you for mentioning me in your Golden Globes acceptance speech,” he whispered.

Laughing, Ivy released him. “No need. I owe you so much, it was the least I could do.”

Tom led her to the table, where Julia hugged her before Eileen embraced her as well. “You look absolutely beautiful, my dear.” She looked at Derek. “Doesn’t she?”

Derek smiled, brown eyes warm. A five o’clock shadow covered his chin and he wore an expensive Armani suit she bought him. “Yes, she does,” he agreed. “Hello, Ivy.” 

“Ivy?” Derek hovered over her, concerned. “Are you well?”

She sat up, feeling a creak in her back. “Yes, I guess I just fell asleep. How did you get in?”

Derek dangled a set of keys from his hand. “You gave them to me, remember?”

“For emergencies, yes.”

“Well, this was an emergency.” He patted her legs and she curled them underneath her to allow him to sit down next to her. “You didn’t answer any calls. We all know what happened last time that happened.”

Ivy looked down. Derek placed a finger underneath her chin, lifting it up. “Did you enjoy your nap?”

She smiled while nodding. “But now I’m all rested.” Ivy lowered her voice and put on what she hoped was a “come hither” look.

Derek chuckled, a sound coming from deep in his throat. He closed the gap between them, lips brushing against her neck. Trailing kissing to her jaw line, he inched her t-shirt up over her torso. “Is this what you wanted?” Hot breath tickled her ear.

“Yes,” she gasped.

He chuckled again, the rumbling in his chest vibrating against her now bared stomach. “Perhaps we should move to the bed?”

Ivy agreed. Derek scooped her up, carrying her into the next room. 

  


The two lay in bed, Ivy drawing circles on Derek’s bare chest with her finger. “How was rehearsal?”

Derek grunted. “Let’s not talk about that. I want to talk about you.”

“Oh?” Ivy propped herself up on her elbow. “That’s a first.”

Rolling over, Derek mirrored her pose. “Miracles happen. But I do want to know.” He rubbed her arm. “Tell me what you were dreaming about earlier.”

“Stardom.” She smiled. “I was imagining what it would be like if I switched media.”

“Oh? Ivy Lynn, movie star?”

“I like the sound of that. But I was thinking a bit smaller. Ivy Lynn, TV star.”

Derek mulled it over. “It does have a ring to it. But you’re too big for TV.”

Ivy sat up, glaring at Derek. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

The bed sheet fell away as Derek sat up. He reached out, placing a hand on her arm. “That’s not what I meant. Your talent and personality are too big for such a small screen to contain. You need a bigger screen. No, you need nothing filtering how amazing you are. Just you and the audience.”

She rolled her eyes. “And we come to your way of telling me to stick to the theater.”

“You are good at it.”

“But I want to do more! Doesn’t everybody?”

Derek rubbed his face while sighing. “Yes, yes. Look, I don’t want to fight. I just want to spend a relaxing night with you.”

Ivy felt her anger dissolve. “What happened at rehearsals today? And don’t evade the question.”

“Fine.” Derek’s shoulders slumped. “Eileen has decided to press on with the out of town tryout in Boston.”

“And you don’t think you’re ready?”

“I know we’re not bloody ready. Especially Rebecca. I don’t know if she’ll ever be ready. But Eileen is determined. There are days I fear her drive is going to ruin Bombshell. I don’t want to see that happen.”

Ivy grabbed his hand, squeezing it. “Of course not. You’ve put so much work into this show. You want it to go well. So do Julia and Tom. I know there is no love lost between you and Tom, but perhaps you can all work together to convince Eileen that the show needs more time. Surely she’ll see reason if you are united?”

Derek was quiet for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice was softer. “I hadn’t wanted to distress you but we’ve been arguing about this for a few weeks now. Julia, Tom and I have failed to sway Eileen. She is determined. It is a quality I both admire and loathe.”

“Do not worry. You will make things work, I am certain.” Ivy hugged him. “I’m going to miss you when you leave for Boston.”

“I’m going to miss you too.” He leaned down, kissing her. “But you will come to Boston, won’t you?”

“Of course! I wouldn’t miss opening night for anything. Come hell or high water, I’ll be there.”

Laughing, Derek pulled her back down onto the bed. “You’ll be my good luck charm.” 

  


Derek, along with the cast and crew of _Bombshell_ , left for Boston the following week. Anyone who had maintained a relationship with her since her episode was gone. She had to face the Equity reprimand board by herself. It was a daunting thought. The night before her meeting, she had tried on several outfits. With them strewn about her bed, Ivy felt lost. How she longed to call Jessica!

Sighing, Ivy sat down on the floor. Taking a few breaths to stave off tears, she tried to recollect herself. It did no good to fall apart. Not now. She needed to be composed or else the board would still see her as a wreck. How she wanted to call Tom or Sam. They would talk her through this. Or come over and tell her everything was going to be all right.

To baby her. The thought hit her with such an intensity she flinched. It never occurred to her before. But the words hung in her subconscious. Spoken in John’s voice, too. Ivy hadn’t spent much time with him as his relationship with Tom was like most of Tom’s relationships: brief. But she had met him before the breakup, after her episode.

_“So you’re the famous Ivy Lynn?” John slid onto the stool next to her, wine glass in his hand. “Nice to finally meet you. I saw you at Marilyn’s workshop. You were wonderful.”_

Ivy smiled. “Thank you…?”

“Name’s John. I’m with Tom.”

Her smile faltered. “Oh, the Republican? I’m sorry I took Tom away from your fundraiser. It was a stupid move.”

“I don’t blame you. I blame Tom.”

Ivy frowned. His tone was bitter and she felt like she was being drawn into something that was none of her business. She glanced around, trying to find a way out of this conversation. There was none.

John swirled the wine in his glass. “He acts like your mother. You are an adult, are you not?” She didn’t know if she was expected to answer until he ploughed on. “Yes, you are. He doesn’t need to ride off and clean up your messes. Not that he did that. He just sat eating with that Sam character while you ran drunk around Times Square.”

Ivy was now certain he wasn’t angry with her. She didn’t even think he was talking to her anymore, only ranting to thin air. Backing away, Ivy made her escape. 

At the time, she had been indignant. Tom didn’t baby her, he helped her. He was a friend; that’s what friends did. If he went over and beyond, it was the person Tom was. Or that’s what she told herself.

She knew now she had been fooling herself, only a silly girl. John had been right. Perhaps having grown up with a mother like Leigh Conroy left her with a craving to be mothered. And Tom offered it, using it as an excuse without realizing it. But no more, she vowed. It was time for her to grow up. Time to be the adult she kept telling her family she was.

It started by acknowledging tomorrow’s review was pointless. Everything was done by the book as far as Equity was concerned. She had shown up and performed drunk. The producers had every right to dismiss her. Her only chance was if the producers didn’t file the proper paperwork within the timeframe determined by Equity. Eileen’s soon-to-be-ex-husband was many things but sloppy when it came to procedures was not one of them. Ivy was doomed.

_Come now, don’t be so negative!_ Her inner voice sounded a lot like Sam, she realized with a smile. And he was right. It wasn’t the end of her career, just a complication. One she could overcome. 

The next day, she returned to her apartment in a sour mood. She had been right about the proceedings—they had not gone in her favor. Jerry, or at least his minions, had done everything by the book. Write ups, notifications, the whole works. The panel had no choice but to uphold the decision.

She had thought she had come to terms with this last night. Guess not. Maybe it was just bravado brought on by fatigue.

On her way home, Ivy had gone into her favorite liquor store on a whim. She picked up a bottle of her favorite red wine for dinner while she was out. Glancing at the clock, she saw it was not yet past noon. “Oh well, it’s five o’clock somewhere, right?”

As she stared at her half-drunk glass—her third—she realized it wasn’t helping. _Alcohol is a depressant._ The thought came to her, a memory from some science class. _Well, I am certainly depressed._ She chuckled as she raised the glass to her lips for another sip. The liquid passed her lips, sliding down her throat. Ivy tasted nothing.

Sighing, she ran a hand through her hair. _Stop it_ , she ordered. _No reason to be depressed. You just lost Heaven on Earth. Not your career._ It sounded like Sam.

_Then why does it feel like it?_ asked another voice. This one sounded more like her.

_Because you are disappointed_ , Sam’s voice countered. _It won’t do you any good to beat yourself up. You need to pick yourself up and move on. Learn this lesson._

It was good advice. Standing, Ivy felt a surge of energy pulse through her body. An idea began to form in her mind and she located her luggage. Opening it on her bed, she tossed items into it. Underwear, bras, socks. Pants, shirts, skirts. Running into the bathroom, Ivy tossed in her travel toiletry bag before going to her closet. Shoes and a dress were quickly picked out. Zipping the bag, Ivy next booted up her computer. All she needed was her ticket and she’d be on her way.

Getting out of the cab, Ivy stared at Madison Square Garden. The massive arena sat over Pennsylvania Station. Waiting on one of its tracks was a train bound for Boston.

Ivy’s train. 

  


She knew Derek’s hotel room and had no problem convincing the front desk she was his wife. Ivy told the man she wanted to surprise her boyfriend and therefore needed her own key to his room. With a knowing smile, the man slid it across to her. “Enjoy your stay.”

Oh, she was going to enjoy her stay. But she wasn’t going to surprise Derek in his hotel room. She knew what tech week was like; it would be a miracle if Derek made it back there. No, for this to work, she was going to have to go to him. Ivy couldn’t wait to see the look on his face!

Standing outside the hotel, she raised an arm to hail a cab. One pulled up and Ivy gave the driver the theater address. In the backseat, she fixed her makeup and hair so she looked her best. After all, it was Derek’s birthday. The first of many, she knew, but she still wanted to make it special.

The cab pulled up outside the theater. As she paid the fare, she asked the driver if he knew any good restaurants in the area. With a nod, the man gave her a name and pointed ahead of them. “A few blocks up, there is a good place. It’s a hole-in-the-wall but has the best lobster you’ll ever eat.”

Ivy thanked the man and walked into the theater with a bounce in her step. Deciding against using the stage door, she walked into the lobby. She paused, taking in the familiar scent of the theater. The smell of the cleaning products mixed with fresh paint. Adrenaline pumped through her as she navigated backstage, trying to find her way to the dressing rooms. It was quiet, meaning they weren’t rehearsing right now. 

  


Backstage, Ivy found Ellis. He smiled and hugged her. “It’s so good to see you! I didn’t know they were letting you back into the show.”

Ivy forced herself to remain smiling. “They didn’t. I came to visit everyone. Got a bit lonely down in New York.” She prayed Ellis didn’t notice how sad her laugh sounded. “How are things here?”

Ellis looked around, making sure they were alone. To be certain, he pulled her into a dark corner and lowered his voice. “It’s a mess. Rebecca Duvall is getting nervous. She’s screwing everything up during tech runs.”

“She can’t be that bad.”

“Oh, trust me. It’s that bad.”

Ivy shook her head. “You know what they say. Bad dress rehearsal means great opening night.”

“I hope so. For everyone’s sake.” Ellis sighed. “But you’re not here to listen to me complain, are you? Let’s go find Derek!”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I have an idea where he might be. It’ll be easier if I take you to him.”

“Alright then. Take me to your leader!” The two laughed as Ellis led her to the dressing rooms. 

Halfway there, the two were surprised by Rebecca’s redheaded assistant. He stood on one of the landings, blocking Ivy’s ascent. “You can’t go up there.”

“What? Why?”

“Ms. Duvall needs her privacy.”

Ivy wanted to laugh. “And needs an entire floor for that? This is Broadway, not Hollywood. Besides, I’m going to see Derek, not Rebecca. Certainly I’m not going to bother her.”

The assistant still did not move but a pained expression came to his face. Ivy recognized it instantly. Panic rose up through her. “No!”

She tried to run past the man but he proved quicker and stronger. Ivy struggled against his hold. As she did, unforgettable moans reached her ears. They took the fight out of her and she sagged in the assistant’s arms. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. For some reason, Ivy believed he meant it.

Ellis took Ivy from the man’s arms. “Come on, I’ll get you back to your hotel.”

She didn’t resist, not at first. Not until they reached the cool night air. Her head cleared and Ivy started to struggle again. Ellis let her go. “What’s wrong?”

“I can’t go back. I planned to stay with Derek. There is no way I’m going to face him tonight.”

Ellis held up his hands. “Okay, okay. Why don’t I bring you to the motel the rest of us are staying at? I’m sure they have a spare room. How’s that?”

Ivy shook her head. “I think I need some time. Clear my head.”

“Do you think you should be alone? Come back to the motel with me, please.” Ellis was begging now. But Ivy still kept walking backwards, shaking her head. She broke out into a run, ignoring Ellis’ calls for her to stop. 

  


She did stop, outside a dive of a bar. The name didn’t matter; as long as she could get smashingly drunk, Ivy didn’t care.  
Inside was filled with several people, all in various states of inebriation. Pushing her way through the bodies, Ivy made her way to the bar. She found an empty stool and plopped down. “Tequila shots. Keep them coming.”

The barkeeper, a plump older man, eyed her suspiciously but supplied her alcohol. Ivy downed shot after shot. His other patrons satisfied, he kept an eye on her. “Maybe you should slow down.”

Ivy shook her head. “Ima fine.”

Unconvinced, the barkeeper seemed ready to argue with Ivy when a voice cut him off. “Get the lovely lady whatever she wants.”

Ivy froze at the sound of the British accent. No, he didn’t follow her. He didn’t know she was in Boston. There was also no way he was finished with Rebecca yet anyway. And he wouldn’t get her drunk as a way of apology. Someway he’d still manage to lecture her and never understand what he did to upset her.

The person with the British accent slid next to Ivy at the bar. She turned to look at him, her vision swimming. Once it cleared, she saw a handsome Indian man sitting next to her. He looked as depressed as she.

Ivy straightened up. “Hey there, stranger. Rough day?” She hoped she didn’t imagine the purr in her voice.

He smiled. Did all British men have sexy smiles? Perhaps it was handed out with the accent? “You could say that. Proposed to my girlfriend and she turned me down.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah.” He downed the shot the bartender gave him. “What brings you down here?”

“I found my boyfriend having sex with another woman.”

“Looks like we both had rough days.”

Ivy snorted. “You can say that.”

The stranger looked at her, an intensity burning in his eyes. “How about we have a better night?”

Pushing her shot glass aside, Ivy nodded. “Sounds like the best thing I’ve heard all night.”


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I'm back! I hope everyone is enjoying this season of Smash! And I hope you enjoy my newest chapter.

### Chapter 4

Something was ringing. Or maybe it was her ears. Everything was hazy. Ivy rolled over, feeling smooth sheets on her bare skin. Why was she naked? Heat radiated from behind her and she backed up until whoever was there was flush against her. An arm wrapped around her midsection. She sighed, ready to slip back into sleep.

But something was wrong. She didn’t know what, but it prevented her from embracing sleep once more. The previous night started coming back to her. Derek and Rebecca. Running away from Ellis. Going to that bar and getting drunk. The stranger and his offer.

Ivy tensed up. Her situation was clear now. She had had a one-night stand. Lying in the stranger’s arms, she made an escape plan. First, she needed to wiggle from his grasp. Then she had to gather her clothes and dress. Next was slipping on her shoes, grabbing her phone and leaving. If she did everything right, she could leave without waking her partner.

Her mind made up, Ivy initiated her plan. It was easy to get out of the man’s embrace, to Ivy’s relief. Discerning her clothes from his also proved easy. The ringing, though, started again as she slipped on her skirt. Awake, Ivy realized it was a phone. She reached for it, pressing the button to answer the phone. “Hello?”

“Ivy?” Karen’s confused voice blasted in her ear. “I thought I called my boyfriend, Dev. I guess I called you instead. Sorry.”

“Karen, I…” Ivy’s voice broke.

She was spared from saying anything more as her companion—Dev—took the phone from her. “Karen, darling, I can explain.”

As he moved to another corner of the room, Ivy finished dressing. If she was lucky, she could be gone before Dev was off the phone. She didn’t want to have any awkward conversations with Karen’s boyfriend.

Phone in hand, Ivy hurried from the room. Dev stood by the window, still talking with Karen. He paid her no attention, allowing her to slip away.

She dialed Sam, praying her friend picked up despite the hour. One ring. Two. Three. “Hello? Ivy? Is something wrong? Or did you butt dial me?” Despite the early hour, Sam’s humor was intact.

Ivy wished she felt the same. “I need to talk to you. Can you meet me for some breakfast?”

There was silence on the other end. “Ivy, you know I’m in Boston, right?”

“It’s a long story, but so am I. Can you come? Please?” Ivy heard whispering over the receiver. “You can bring Tom. I need all the friends I have.”

“Okay, we’ll meet you for breakfast.” Sam gave her the name and address of a diner where they could meet. Ivy thanked him and hung up.

By this point, Ivy entered the lobby of the motel where Dev was staying. The woman behind the front desk waved her over. “Are you okay, ma’am?”

No, I’m not. I’ve probably ruined a happy relationship because mine hit a snag. Instead, she asked for directions to the diner where she was to meet Tom and Sam.

The woman hesitated. “How about I call you a cab to take you there? You seem upset.”

Ivy was going to protest but reason took over. “Yes, please. Thank you.” Nodding, the woman picked up the phone and Ivy went outside to await the cab.

“I am going to kill him!” Tom stabbed his waffle with the fury he felt toward Derek. “I told Eileen I didn’t want him anywhere near Bombshell. He ruins everything.”

“Tom!” Sam chided. He motioned toward Ivy with his head. She sat, poking her eggs with her fork with a faraway look in her eyes.

Tom looked ashamed, turning his attention back to his waffle. He did mutter under his breath. “I’m still killing him. They are never going to find his body.”

Sam ignored his boyfriend’s mumblings and put an arm around Ivy. He drew in for another hug. “Don’t worry. He’s not worth your tears.”

“It’s worse than Derek cheating on me with Rebecca Duvall.”

Tom and Sam both dropped their forks. “What else is there?” Sam asked.

Ivy couldn’t meet their eyes. “I went to a bar last night.”

Tom groaned. “How drunk did you get last night, Ivy?”

“Tom!” Sam snapped.

“No, no. I deserve that. I did get drunk last night. And I did something stupid. I had a one night stand.”

“Did you…Did you use protection?” Tom asked.

“Yes, we did. I wasn’t too drunk to insist on a condom.” Ivy bit her lip. “But it isn’t about having a one night stand. It’s who I had the one night stand with. Karen’s boyfriend.”

Her companions were speechless. Tom’s mouth hung open and Sam’s fork was frozen in midair. She squirmed, waiting for one of them to say something.

Sam recovered first, putting his fork back down on his plate. “Did I hear you correctly? Karen’s boyfriend?”

Ivy nodded. “I didn’t recognize him last night. After all, I had only met him once.”

“Was he drunk?” Tom asked.

Ivy paused to think before shaking her head. “Definitely more sober than me, but just in need of a drink.” She relayed what she remembered of her conversation with Dev to the two men.

Sam looked thoughtful. “Makes sense. Karen came back last night very upset. She spent the night holed up with Sue and Jessica. Guess that’s why.”

“I didn’t realize it was him until I picked up the phone I thought was mine and Karen’s voice came out the other end. She knows I was with Dev.” She rested her head on her hands. “She’s going to hate me. More than she already does.”

“Karen doesn’t hate you,” Tom said. “I don’t think she’s capable of hating anybody.”

Sam nodded. “And she’s a reasonable person. She’ll understand the blame goes to Dev, not you.”

“No one is reasonable when it comes to matters of the heart. Wasn’t that one of Marilyn’s problems?” Ivy sighed. “And I know how she’ll react. I know Derek’s nature but I still want to rip all of Rebecca’s hair out.”

Their conversation was interrupted by Tom’s ringing phone. He glanced at the caller ID. “It’s Eileen.”

“You should answer that. It could be important,” Sam said.

Standing, Tom left to answer the call. Ivy returned to her now cold breakfast, biting into the last sausage. “Do you think I’m awful?”

“You’re not awful. Never think that.” Sam hugged her again.

But Ivy was not satisfied. “I do awful things, though.”

“Not usually. You’ve been acting different since Marilyn came around.”

“I’ve noticed as well. I know there is a thing as dying for your art, but you don’t have to. You’ve got the talent and you’ve got the drive, you just need to reel it in. Be the Ivy I know and love.”

Tom returned. “Sorry, tonight’s the first preview and everyone is freaking out.”

Sam snorted. “Freaking out is putting lightly.” He turned to Ivy. “You coming tonight?”

Ivy shrugged. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea. Karen doesn’t want to see me and I don’t want to see Derek.”

“You don’t have to, I promise. You can just show up, sit with me and Julia and avoid everyone you don’t want to talk to,” Tom said.

“Please?” Sam pleaded. “For me? For Jessica? Or Bobby?”

“Fine, you win. I’ll come.” Ivy put up her hands in mock surrender. But she did smile. And that was a small victory.

As the daylight hours began to wane, Ivy realized her luggage was still in Derek’s room. She paced Tom’s hotel room. “I’m not going back there.”

“I don’t blame you,” Julia said, sitting on Tom’s bed. “I could go if you want.”

“Could you? Thank you so much, Julia.” Ivy hugged the redhead. Julia slipped out of the room as the blonde resumed pacing.

Tom sighed. “Could you stop that? You’re making me dizzy.”

“I can’t. Too nervous. Must keep moving.”

“Then can you please speak in full sentences?” Ivy glared at him but Tom was not scared. “He isn’t going to come down here. And while I think he’s the scum of the earth, he isn’t going to hold your luggage hostage either.”

“I know. But I’m still nervous. I don’t know. Maybe I’m still hungover, maybe it’s the emotions…I’m a wreck.”

Tom stood and hugged Ivy, finally getting her to stand still. “You need to stop moving. Slow down and find yourself again.”

“I guess so. But there’s so much to worry about.” She at last sat down. “Like money.”

“True. Well, I happen to need a new assistant. Up for the job?”

Ivy smiled. “I think I could be.”

“Good. But I have some conditions.” Ivy nodded and Tom continued. “Lay off alcohol for a while. And continue with your dance lessons and voice lessons. If you work hard, you’ll be able to convince people you are not a liability and they’ll start casting you again.”

“Agreed. And thank you, Tom.”

He leaned over and kissed her forehead as the door opened. Julia came in, wheeling Ivy’s luggage behind her. “Derek is upset.”

“Serves him right,” Tom replied.

Julia ignored her partner. “He wants to talk to you. I told him you didn’t want to give him the time of day.”

“Thank you, Julia. I owe you.” Ivy took her luggage from the woman.

Julia placed her hands on Ivy’s shoulders. “Where are you staying tonight?”

The younger woman shrugged. “I thought I’d check the motel where the other actors are staying.”

“You’re bound to run into Karen there,” Tom said.

Ivy took a deep breath. “I’m bound to run into Karen tonight too. And I realized I can’t avoid her forever.” She faced Tom. “You said I need to be an adult.”

“Not in those words…”

“But it’s what you meant, I know. As I was saying, adults don’t run away from bad situations. They face them head on. So that’s what I have to do.”

Julia hugged her. “I’m so proud of you. You’re starting to fix your life.” She leaned back to look Ivy in the eyes. “It won’t be easy. And it won’t happen overnight. Trust me, I know.”

Tom piped up behind them. “But your friends will be here to support you. Both of you.” He hugged Julia.

It was cold that night and Ivy regretted her dress choice. While the black dress was gorgeous and showed off all of her curves, it was made from a flimsy material which did little to keep her warm. Especially her legs, as they were bare from the knee down. They were going numb, much like her feet had due to the open-toed shoes she had paired with the dress. Yet she was Tom’s date and she couldn’t go anywhere until he was done talking to the press.

At last, Frank came to her rescue. “Come on, let’s go inside. I’ll buy you a drink while we wait for those two to finish basking in the glow.”

“Thank you,” Ivy said, taking his arm. He led her to the theater’s bar, ordering them drinks. “I’m glad you were able to come to Boston.”

“Yeah, well, I had a pretty good reason to.” Frank took a sip. “Ivy, can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” she replied.

Frank fidgeted with his tie. “Does everybody in the cast know about Julia’s and my…problem?”

Ivy bit her lip. “They don’t know for sure, but there are rumors.” Frank grimaced and she rushed to explain. “You know the theater community; we’re small and tight-knit. Nothing stays secret for long, I’m afraid. And especially when we’re all working together like this.”

Frank, though, was getting more agitated. “I’m not fond of being the last to know things in my own marriage.”

“Look, as I said, it was just rumors. Julia was acting weird before the workshop and then right after, Michael is the one canned? Oh, tongues were wagging. But you had confirmation, at least.” Ivy looked down at her drink. “I guess I’m not helping.”

“No, you’re not.” Frank sighed. “Sorry.”

The awkward moment was broken by the arrival of Tom and Julia, who were all smiles. “Shall we go in?” Tom asked, offering Ivy his arm. Julia took Frank’s arm and they went to find their seats in the theater.

Ivy had seen many train wrecks in her life, but she had never been personally invested in them. As she watched Bombshell, she felt more and more uncomfortable. Not because the show was bad. Yes, there were some issues Julia and Tom needed to iron out, but that’s why out-of-town tryouts existed. Most of the cast was really good; even Karen seemed different on stage.

The problem was Rebecca Duvall. Ivy had heard the stories from Derek, Sam and Jessica but she thought they were exaggerating how bad Rebecca was. But her singing wasn’t on par with the rest of the cast and her nerves showed on stage. Missed cues forced the cast and orchestra to cover for the superstar while other times, the lighting tech had to refocus on her. Blocking did not stick with this woman.

At the end, Rebecca lay sprawled on the bed to recreate Marilyn’s death. Ivy had to admit it was some of her best work, though it was never good when one said that about someone in a musical. The lights dimmed and there was silence in the theater. Frank began clapping which triggered the others do the same as the bows began.

“That was mortifying!” Tom shook his head as he escorted Ivy toward the lobby. “No one applauded!”

“Well, with that ending, applauding seemed inappropriate. And you know that doesn’t mean it was bad.”

“But it was bad, wasn’t it?”

Ivy shook her head. “A bit rough, but not bad. You and Julia can smooth it out for New York. Though you might want to lose Rebecca.”

“It was her first performance. Give her time to settle in.”

“Tom, I could count the time she got the blocking right on one hand. I don’t think she’s going to get better, especially once the reviews come out.”

Tom sighed but was spared an answer as an angry Derek stormed up to him. “We need another ending. That one was too depressing. What musical depresses its audience?”

“Well, Les Mis isn’t exactly all sunshine, rainbows and unicorns,” Tom responded.

“And Jean Valjean dies at the end, just like Marilyn.” Julia stepped up to the group, arms crossed. “My arms are tied; history says Marilyn died.”

“But in Les Mis, it ends with such a triumphant chorus and the music is happy so everyone forgets Valjean died,” Ivy said.

The three stared at Ivy as if seeing her for the first time. Guilt and sorrow crossed Derek’s but she looked away, keeping her eyes on Tom and Julia. Tom’s eyes grew wide in an epiphany. “We write a finale that’s more upbeat. Maybe something on Marilyn’s legacy.”

“Maybe not even a new song. Perhaps some reprises?” Ivy suggested. “Like maybe have someone come out and sing a reprise of ‘Let Me Be Your Star,’ to show there is always a Marilyn out there?”

Derek rubbed his chin. “That’s not a bad idea. People would be debating whether or not the person is Anna Nicole, for example.”

“If I wanted to write a musical about Anna Nicole Smith—and it might be a good one, Lord knows the poor woman lived a dramatic life—I’d write one.” Julia sighed. “But Ivy’s idea to make the finale more upbeat is a good one. I’ll see what I can do.”

Nodding, Derek thanked Julia and Tom. He tried to reach out to Ivy but she stepped behind Tom, who blocked Derek’s attempts. The director stepped away, downcast. Ivy felt a twinge of guilt but she pushed it away; there was nothing for her to feel guilty for.

Tom tried to convince her to share his room but failed; Ivy was determined to go to a motel she could afford. “I will be fine, I promise,” she told him. A taxi waited for her to get in as Tom kissed her cheek, setting up another breakfast date for the next day. She climbed in, ready to face whatever she had to.

As she rolled her luggage down a hallway which reeked of bleach, she wasn’t surprised to find it deserted. The cast was no doubt off celebrating their successful opening. She didn’t blame them; she would do the same in their shoes. It was a reward for surviving tech week.

Ivy located her room halfway down and stopped to open the door. Back to the door, a voice froze her. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be out ruining someone else’s life?”

Glancing up, her heart stopped to see Karen Cartwright leaning against the door across the hall. She had her arms crossed and a sour expression on her face. Cold eyes focused on Ivy’s face. Ivy felt her very soul being judged. “I just want to get some sleep, Karen.”

“Alone? There isn’t someone else’s fiancé you can’t entice to bed?”

Ivy sighed, letting the door close behind her. “Karen, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I know you probably don’t believe me…”

“No, I don’t.”

“But I didn’t know it was Dev.”

“Liar! I introduced you two! You knew what he looked like so you had to know who he was.”

Ivy felt anger surge through her as her face grew hot. “I didn’t recognize him. I know that might be hard to believe, but I was drunk.”

Karen’s laughter was as cold as her demeanor. “Why doesn’t that surprise me? It’s been your constant lately, drinking. I know you want to be Marilyn but that’s a bit much, don’t you think?”

The handle of her luggage landed with a dull thud as Ivy balled her fists. With two strides, Ivy stood so close to Karen their noses would’ve touched if she wasn’t shorter than the Iowan farm girl who stole her part. “Look, I know I have a problem. Or am starting to have a problem. I realize that and am trying to straighten myself out. But I think you’re blaming me for your problems.”

“What?” Karen’s voice had gone up several octaves. “Are you seriously trying to put your bad decisions on me?”

Ivy leaned back, smirking. “Yes, I was drunk. I couldn’t recognize myself if you held up a mirror. And while most of the night was blurry, I remember two things. One, the man distinctly told me he proposed and his girlfriend refused. And two, he was far more sober than I. So, yes, my judgment was clearly compromised. But what’s his excuse?”

Karen’s arms fell limp at her side and her eyes began to water. Triumph swelled in Ivy as she walked back over to pick up her luggage. She slid the card back into the slot, waiting for the green light to signal her door was open. Turning the handle, she rolled her suitcase inside. As she did this, Karen remained outside her own room. Ivy smiled as she closed the door. “Good night, Karen.”

“You’re a bitch, you know that?” Karen slammed her door shut.

Her door closed, Ivy slid down it. She did know it and now that the rush of getting one over on Karen subsided, she hated it.


	5. Chapter Five

### Chapter 5

Ivy paid the taxi driver before sliding out. The weather in Boston was cold and nasty with gray clouds threatened rain. Pulling her coat tighter, she hurried into the theater. Once the door shut behind her, she wished she had stayed outside and gotten wet.  
People raced around backstage. Costumers, techs, and actors all mingled together, whispering in hushed tones. Linda hurried past her and Ivy reached out to stop her. “What’s going on?”

Linda’s eyes lit up as she saw Ivy. “So good to see you again, Ivy. I heard what happened and was concerned.”

“Thank you, but you haven’t answered my question.”

The stage manager’s eyes darted about. “I don’t know how much I can say. Sorry.”

Ivy frowned, her eyes wide. “Guess it’s something big.” She shook her head. “I’m here to see Tom, anyway. Do you know where he is?”

“Last I saw, he was huddled on stage with Eileen, Julia and Derek. You can check there. Excuse me.” Linda shrugged off Ivy’s hand and walked away.

Taking a deep breath, Ivy marched off toward the stage where Derek stood, reading over his prompt book. Everything slowed down as she approached. She prayed he was too absorbed and she could pass unnoticed. Heart beating with every step, she held her breath. Right foot. Left foot. Don’t make eye contact. Just keep walking. Right foot. Left foot. Almost there. Right foot. Left foot.

“Ivy?” Derek’s voice froze her. “What are you doing here?”

She took a deep breath. You’re an actress, you can do this. Just put on a smile and act like he didn’t break your heart. And…go. “Derek! Good to see you. I’m looking for Tom. Have you seen him?”

“He and Julia went to find an alcove to work. Look, I’m glad you’re here. Maybe we could…”

“An alcove? Where are they?” Ivy’s voice was sugary. The smile stayed in place.

Derek’s face fell. “They’re out in the lobby.” He stepped closer to her. “I really do think we should…”

Ivy stepped back. “Thank you. See you around, Derek.”

With that, she walked away. Don’t look back. Just keep walking. She held her head up as she headed back toward the lobby. One conversation down, many more to come, she knew. Little by little, it would get better. Perhaps one day, it wouldn’t hurt at all.

She found Tom alone in an alcove, seated on one of the couches. His laptop sat on the coffee table placed in the alcove though he only stared at its screen. Ivy slid next to him. “What’s going on?”

Tom jumped, placing a hand over his heart. “You scared me.” He sighed. “Might as well tell you. The rest of the theater world probably knows by now. We’ve had to cancel this weekend’s performances.”

“What? Why?”

Tom sighed. “Rebecca had an allergic reaction. Someone spiked her smoothie with peanuts.”

Ivy gasped, covering her mouth. “Is she okay?”

“Thankfully Karen was with her when it happened and got her help and her epipen. The doctors are keeping her for observation.”

“I’m glad she’s okay. But do you really think it was foul play?”

“We do, but we don’t know who.”

“Karen was found with her, but…”

“But Iowa wouldn’t hurt a fly. She wouldn’t think of doing something diabolical to advance her career. It’s admirable in some way.” Ivy smiled a little.

Tom nodded again. “But we still have to find out who did it. They cannot go unpunished.”

“Maybe they did you a favor? Rebecca wasn’t exactly the best yesterday.”

“She was nervous. I’m sure she’ll be better as she gets more comfortable.”

It was Ivy’s turn to sigh. “Why do you keep defending her?”

“We can’t afford to lose her.”

“Can you afford to keep her?”

Tom rubbed his face. “Please don’t start fighting with me either. I don’t think I could survive if the only person around here who can stand me is Derek.”

“What? What else happened?”

“Julia is upset that I didn’t stand with her and refuse to let Michael back into the production,” Tom explained.

Ivy leaned back. “Because of the affair?”

Tom nodded. “So now she’s not talking to me.”

“What about Sam? Or Eileen? Why aren’t they talking to you?”

“They are; I was exaggerating. But who knows, they might stop anyway. Heck, you might stop talking to me next.”

Ivy rested her head on his shoulder. “Don’t worry about me. I’m not going to stop talking to you. We need to stick together.”

With a chuckle, Tom rested his head on hers. “Thanks. I needed to hear that.”

“You’re welcome. Now, about why I came to visit you.” She sat up, resting her hand against her head. “Your keys?”

Tom shook his head. “Not yet. I think you should stick around for a few more days. See what happens with Rebecca.”

“You think you might need a new Marilyn?” Ivy smiled and bounced a bit on the couch.

He placed a hand on her shoulder, stilling her. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. Rebecca may still be able to go on. And I couldn’t guarantee you’d be in it at all. I just want you to stick around a few more days, okay?”

Ivy nodded. “I can do that, don’t worry.” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “What do you need me to do?”

Tom glanced around, as if making sure they were alone. Adrenaline pumped through Ivy as she leaned closer so Tom could whisper his response. “I need you to find out who sabotaged Rebecca’s smoothie.”

“Why?”

“Because we don’t want whoever it is to go unpunished. And I want to make sure it isn’t someone trying to prevent Bombshell from getting to Broadway. Everyone has invested way too much for it to fail now. Don’t you agree?”

“Yes, of course.” Ivy took Tom’s hand. “You can count on me.”

He kissed her cheek. “That’s my girl. Good luck.”

Ivy slipped back into the dressing rooms, looking for her friends. Jessica spotted her first, racing forward with arms open. The two blondes engulfed each other in a tight hug, spinning around. “I’m so glad you’re here!” Jessica took Ivy’s hands in hers. “Did you get to see the show?”

“Of course I did! And everyone was great! Well, maybe except Rebecca.” Ivy shuddered as Jessica laughed.

“That’s because she is a poor man’s Marilyn Monroe. We’ve seen the real deal and her name is Ivy Lynn!” Sam approached, hugging Ivy. She returned it with a giggle.

Bobby, sitting by a vanity, leaned over. “Karen’s good as well. If Rebecca can’t go on, she’ll be a good choice.”

Jessica and Sam glared at Bobby while Ivy squirmed before taking a breath. “No, I agree with Bobby. Karen was really good yesterday. She’d make a good Marilyn.”

Sam squeezed her. “But you’re the best.”

Ivy shrugged his arm off. “Anyway, I heard about Rebecca.”

Everyone’s faces grew solemn. “That had to be scary,” Jessica said. “Imagine not being able to breathe?”

They all shuddered before Ivy spoke up. “You think someone deliberately sabotaged her?”

“No! Who would do something like that?” Sam was aghast.

Bobby shrugged. “An angel of mercy?” At everyone’s shocked faces, he grew defensive. “What? It’s the truth. Rebecca was awful. If someone sabotaged Rebecca’s smoothie, let’s face it—they did us a favor.”

No one responded. Ivy figured it was because they knew it was the truth. She shook her head. “Sorry, I guess I’m just looking for drama. Didn’t mean to stir the pot. It is probably something innocuous like someone using something with peanut oil in the smoothie machine and didn’t clean it out properly.” She kissed their cheeks and said her goodbyes.

Ivy found a restaurant by the theater where she could have lunch. She felt a bit awkward to reveal she needed a table for one but brushed it off. Alone time was what she needed now. Though perhaps this wasn’t the best place for the introspection she needed, it would have to do.

She didn’t make any progress though as a bag plopped down across from her. “Is this seat taken?” Glancing up, Ivy was surprised to find Karen standing there. Her eyes were still cold and she was still frowning. But her arms were at her side, a more welcoming stance.

“No,” Ivy said. “Go ahead and take it.”

Karen pulled it out, the metal legs scraping against the tile. She sat down and pulled it in, once again scraping it. Ivy tried not to flinch, to take her punishment. “I heard about Rebecca, Karen. It was a good thing you were there to help her,” she said.

“You think I did it.”

Ivy shook her head. “I don’t think that. Where did you get an idea like that?”

“I heard you thought Rebecca was sabotaged. And you obviously knew I was in the room with Rebecca. And we all know you hate me.”

“I don’t hate you.” She paused as Karen scoffed. “Okay, not anymore. But I wouldn’t blame you for something like that.”

Karen sighed. “I guess that was a compliment.”

“It was, I swear.”

The waitress approached to take their orders. Karen’s tone softened as she did so but once the other woman walked away, the ice was back in her voice. “So, why do you think Rebecca was sabotaged?”

Ivy shrugged. “I don’t know; it just seems the likely choice. Don’t you agree?”

After a long pause, Karen sighed. “I do. It is the only option.”

“Alright. So, we know you didn’t poison Rebecca. While I’ll admit I might not be above doing it, I was nowhere near the theater so I didn’t do it.”

Karen dug through her purse, pulling out a little notebook and a pen. She made a list of everyone involved with Bombshell, crossing out hers and Ivy’s names.

_Look at Nancy Drew…_ Ivy resisted the urge to laugh as a thought crossed her mind. She believed if anyone ever wrote a musical about the teen detective, Karen would be perfect for the title role. But they weren’t there to come up with each other’s dream roles. They needed to try and smoke out a rat.

They eliminated most of the cast within minutes and the crew wasn’t too far behind. Karen chewed on her pen cap. “There aren’t many people left on the list.”

“Who is left?”

Karen pushed the pad over so Ivy could see. “You know a lot of these people better than me.”

“How do you figure?”

The other woman rolled her eyes. “Please, Ivy. You know everybody in the New York theater scene.”

“Well, not everybody.” She eyeballed the list again, noting a few more names she recognized. But she didn’t know them well enough to vouch for them. “The list looks manageable. Do you want to split it?”

Karen shook her head. “I was going to visit Rebecca in the hospital. I’ll show her the list; see if any of these names mean anything to her.”

“Sounds like a plan. We make a good team.”

Ivy smiled at Karen but the brunette continued to frown. “This doesn’t mean we’re friends. Or that I like you.”

“Of course not. I wasn’t expecting it. People can work well together and still hate each other.”

The waitress brought their meal as the two lapsed into an awkward silence and Ivy was grateful for the distraction. Karen kept glancing in her direction but Ivy tried to ignore it. Finally, Karen sighed. “I wanted to apologize.”

“What for? I’m the one who acted like an ass.”

Karen laughed. “It’s good to hear you admit it. Dev won’t. He went back to New York today.”

“You don’t have to tell me any of this.”

“I know.” An odd look crossed Karen’s face. “But the strange thing is I feel more comfortable telling you about this than anyone else. I don’t know why.”

“Alright. I owe it to you. Go ahead.”

“Not much else to say, actually. We fought, he then proposed again. I was shocked but there was more. Turns out he didn’t get the promotion he was expecting and was thinking of quitting City Hall. R.J, the first woman he cheated on me with, said he could have a job down in Washington. He wants me to marry him, give up my career and move down there with him.”

“Wow.” Ivy didn’t know what else to say. From what she had recalled, Karen had always made it sound like Dev was very supportive of her career. “Washington does have a very good theater district but…”

“But it’s not Broadway,” Karen finished. “I would never ask Dev to give up his career for me. I expected the same.”

“And I didn’t think Derek would cheat on me. Guess love is one heck of a blindfold.” She smiled at Karen and was surprised when she smiled back. They finished their meals in silence, though it wasn’t as awkward as it had been.  


Karen left the restaurant to go visit Rebecca in the hospital while Ivy decided to return to the theater. Sam greeted her. “We were going out, you coming?”

She shook her head. “I want to talk to Tom again. Rain check?”

“Fine. But I’m gonna cash it in as soon as I can.” Sam pointed at her as he followed the others down the street. Ivy laughed as she watched them disappear around the corner. Taking a deep breath, she felt like laughing. It was the best she felt in weeks. Pulling open the door, Ivy stepped inside the theater.

And collided with something warm. Hands steadied her, preventing her from falling backwards. “Are you okay, love?”

Ivy wanted to groan. Of all the people to crash into, she had to crash into the one person she was trying to avoid. And he wasn’t letting go.

“Ivy? Is something wrong?” Derek’s voice snapped her back from her thoughts. She stared into his concerned eyes and felt herself falling once again.

Shaking her head, Ivy tried to step away but he still held her in place. “Let me go. You can’t keep me here.”

“We need to talk.”

“No, we don’t. Let me go!”

Derek didn’t. “Not until we talk.”

“About what? How you slept with Rebecca Duvall? No, I really don’t want to talk about now. Not with the sounds burned into my brain.”

Twisting, Ivy tried to break free from his grasp but the Brit proved stronger. “Please, can we talk?”

Derek Wills said “please.” Ivy was certain it was one of the signs of the apocalypse. Had Tom been there, he would’ve passed out from surprise. She thought she might and stopped struggling.

He took it as a good sign. “Look, Rebecca was nervous and I needed to be her director. I needed to reassure her.”

“With sex?”

“It was the best way I knew how.”

“Of course it was.” The ice was back in Ivy’s voice, even she heard it. She didn’t care. “Are you done explaining? Can I go now?”  
“Not yet.”

Ivy sighed, rolling her eyes. “What more could you possibly have to say to me?”

“That I’m sorry you had to hear it, to know about it.”

She at last looked into his eyes, wanting to scream. Instead, she laughed. “Really? That’s it? So, let me recap. You cheated on me but you insist it was you being a good director. And to top it off, you’re only sorry you got caught. So I think we’re done talking. And don’t come find me until you locate your conscience.”

  
With that, she broke free and stormed off. She didn’t notice where she was going until she collided with someone else. “Oof. What is with me today?”

“It’s understandable. You’ve had a lot thrown at you.” Ellis smiled. “But I think things are going to get better.”

“What do you mean?”

Ellis looked around before taking Ivy’s arm. He led her to a distant corner where no one would find them. “Can you keep a secret?”

Ivy nodded. “What’s going on?”

“The rumors about Rebecca are true. Her smoothie was sabotaged.”

“How do you know?”

He leaned closer, lowering his voice. “Because I did it. So you could be Marilyn.”


	6. Chapter Six

### Chapter 6

“Of all the despicable things! Ellis, what were you thinking?” Eileen paced the hallway as Ellis stood in the middle, mouth wide open. Julia and Tom stood against the wall along with Ivy, watching.

Ellis glared at her. “You said you could keep a secret.”

Ivy held up her hands. “This wasn’t a secret. This was a crime.”

He approached her. “I did it for you.”

Eileen stopped pacing, staring at Ivy. “What does he mean?”

Eyes wide, Ivy shook her head. “I had no idea about any of this until he told me what he had done.”

“It’s true, Eileen. Ivy knew nothing of this, I did it on my own.”

“For her?” Julia asked.

“For everybody! Rebecca Duvall was bringing this production down. She was making a mockery of this show! I did it for all our good!”

Ivy was impressed. Ellis had such conviction in his voice and fire in his eyes. Had this been a movie or even a musical, music would’ve swelled behind him as he delivered his speech. She felt like she should be applauding.

Eileen, though, felt otherwise if her glare was any indication. “Our good? You’re the one who brought Rebecca into the show.”

“And so I took her out! I was a producer! I deserve the credit! I saved this production!”

“You nearly jeopardized this production! Rebecca could sue and put us out of business! There’s underhanded and then there’s criminal. You are fired.”

Eileen stalked away, followed by Julia. Tom approached Ivy, leading her in the other direction. He hugged her when they were a good distance away. “I’m so proud of you!” he said.

Ivy smiled. “Thank you. But I didn’t really do anything. He just confessed to me.”

“Who confessed to you?” They turned to find Karen standing beside them, next to the stage door. She looked bewildered.

So Ivy explained what had happened and Karen’s eyes grew wider. “Wow. I never would’ve guessed that.”

“I know. So, how is Rebecca?” Ivy asked.

Karen sighed. “She’s leaving the show.”

Tom groaned. “Because of the peanut-laced smoothie?”

“That’s more the straw that broke the camel’s back. She knew she was floundering in the show and she’d rather bow out gracefully than flame out.”

“It’s admirable,” Ivy said.

“If a bit of a setback.” Tom sighed as he ran a hand through his hair. “Thanks, Karen.”

Karen shifted on her feet. “Should I tell Eileen?”

Tom shook his head. “Rebecca’s agent will handle everything. Why don’t you get some rest? I think the next few days are going to be tiring.”

The brunette thanked him before leaving them alone. Ivy watched as Tom buried his face in his hands. “Are you okay?”

He groaned. “No, not really. Our leading lady is leaving and the show needs some fixes. And my partner isn’t talking to me!”

Ivy engulfed her friend in a hug. “Don’t worry. No use in stressing out. It won’t help, trust me.”

Tom laughed. “Thanks for reminding me.”

“Just doing my job!” She linked arms with him. “Let’s go patch up your relationship with Julia, shall we?”

He shook his head. “Thanks, but I think I need to give her some time. I’m going to go figure out the finale.” Tom kissed her cheek before walking away.

She watched him walk away and pulled out her cell phone. “Hey, Sam. How about cashing in that rain check?”

Later that evening, she approached Julia’s hotel door and knocked. Frank opened the door, rubbing his eyes. “Hey, Ivy. Julia’s not here but I’m sure she’ll be back soon.”

“Thanks, but I’m actually here to talk to you.”

Frank raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Because you know how stubborn Julia and Tom both can be and I’m sure you know they needed to make up like yesterday.”

Leaning against the doorframe, he crossed his arms. “Go on.”

“Sam and I have a plan. And we need your help for it to go well.”

“What kind of help?”

“Sam’s church is going to pray for Rebecca tomorrow at their service. And Sam’s going to sing. Tom’s already going so we need you to get Julia there. Maybe if they’re in that setting, together…”

Frank nodded. “They may be inspired to make up. I’ll do my best to get Julia there. She’s miserable when she fights with Tom.”  
Ivy smiled, clapping as she bounced. “Thank you so much, Frank! I have a good feeling about this.”

Bobby escorted Ivy and Jessica into Sam’s church the next morning. Jessica wore dark oversized sunglasses as they entered. “I hope no one realizes I’m still blotto from last night.”

“Don’t worry. You’re not the first person to attend Sunday services drunk. Heck, I bet you’re not alone now.” Bobby glanced around the congregation as did Ivy. Most people looked awake and alert but she held her tongue. There was no need to argue.

Sam waved to them from the choir and they returned the gesture. He pointed off to the side and Ivy glanced over. Tom sat with Sam’s family—she had met them after a few shows. Good people who always treated her like a member of the family. No doubt they were doing the same with Tom, which made her smile.

Julia and Frank sat a few rows behind her. She made eye contact with Frank, who nodded. Ivy faced forward as the service began; everything was going well so far. Perhaps things were starting to look up.

“You sounded amazing!” Ivy threw her arms around Sam after the service.

He hugged her back, laughing. “Thank you. It felt good singing up there again. I miss it.”

“Why did you sing with Karen?” she asked.

Sam shrugged. “Because she was the closest with Rebecca, it just made sense. She wasn’t too bad.”

“Oh, it’s not that she was bad…It just seemed odd that she would be so prominent in a performance in your church,” Bobby said. Ivy pointed to him as she and Jessica nodded. Sam laughed again.

Frank approached the group, placing a hand on Sam’s and Ivy’s shoulders. “I think our little plan is working.”

They glanced in the direction in which he nodded. Julia and Tom stood off to the side, hugging. Everyone breathed out a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness. I was afraid we’d be walking on egg shells forever,” Bobby said. Jessica hit him in the arm. He rubbed the spot as he glared at her.

Julia and Tom walked over to the group. “I supposed we have to thank you,” she said.

“You don’t have to,” Ivy replied with a smile, “but it would be nice.”

Everyone laughed as they dissolved into a group hug. Ivy was caught in the middle but she didn’t complain. She felt safe, warm and loved. And she wished the feeling never ended.

The following day, Ivy once again reported to the theater. She walked through the lobby, looking for Tom and Julia. Once again, she found them in one of the alcoves. “Still trying to figure out the finale?”

“Yes, and I’m glad you’re here.” Tom held up his hands, as if presenting a scene. “What do you think of gospel?”

“In general?”

“For the finale.”

Ivy laughed. “You’re kidding right? It wouldn’t fit in at all!”

Julia high-fived Ivy. “Thank you! I’ve been trying to tell him that for about an hour!”

Tom glared at the two women. “I thought it would be appropriate.”

“You wanted to do gospel because Sam sings it,” Julia replied.

“And wouldn’t Sam be amazing?”

Ivy sat down next to Tom. “Sam is always amazing. And there are opportunities for him to show it off already. You can write an amazing gospel number which Sam performs expertly but then have people leaving saying everything was great until the out-of-left-field finale.”

Tom leaned back. “Benedict Arnold. The worst part is you’re right.”

Julia and Ivy met each other’s eyes and smiled. “I’m sure you and Julia will find the best way to end this musical. And it’ll be great.”

“That’s what we needed to hear.” Tom hugged Ivy. “You’ll be here tonight for the opening?”

Ivy feigned indignation. “Where else would I be?” She then became serious. “Who is playing Marilyn?”

Julia and Tom looked at each other before Julia answered. “Her understudy.”

“Karen.” Ivy’s voice was flat. The other two nodded as Ivy mustered up some faux enthusiasm. “She’ll be good.”

“Derek thinks so,” Julia said.

Ivy hummed a response. “Well, I’ll leave you alone. Let you finish the finale. I’ll see you in a little bit.”

Standing, she left the two and wandered around. There was no reason for her to be there, except to fetch Tom and Julia drinks. But they hardly asked her to do that and not just because they were too busy. No, it was because they felt bad ordering her around. She wasn’t going to take Tom’s money and not do any work, though. And she was going to tell Tom that, she decided. Tomorrow, though. He had enough stress now.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Derek’s voice cut through her haze. He was leaning against the wall, arms crossed.

“You can keep your penny.”

He pushed off the wall, approaching her. “Come on, luv. You look like you have something to say. I’m all ears.”

Ivy shook her head. “If I did have something to say, it isn’t to you.” She paused, tilting her head. “But now that I think about it…If I ask you something, will you give me an honest answer?”

“I give you my word.”

“Well, that doesn’t mean much but okay.” Ivy met his eyes. “If the incident hadn’t happened at Heaven on Earth, would I be playing Marilyn tonight?”

Derek looked away and Ivy nodded. “I thought so. Why?”

“Ivy…” He sighed. “You’re talented, incredibly so. You will be a leading lady one day, I know it.”

“But…?”

He sighed again. “But you aren’t my Marilyn. There’s just something about Karen. She has the essence of Marilyn. I see her as Marilyn. Do you understand?”

“I think so. Thanks for being honest at least once.” Ivy walked away, ignoring Derek’s pleas to turn back. She needed to check in with Tom, see if he needed anything—even if it was just coffee. If he didn’t, she was going to go back to her hotel for a few hours and pack.

She was never going to be Marilyn. It was clear now—clearer than ever, if she was honest. That was one dream she needed to set aside. A new dream was needed and it wasn’t in Boston. Not for her.

It was in New York.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don’t worry, this isn’t the last we’ll see of Ellis. He’s going to cause trouble for Ivy down the road. Next chapter, some familiar names from Season 2 cross her path.


	7. Chapter Seven

### Chapter Seven

New York City in the spring was beautiful when the weather gods smiled upon the Big Apple. It was sunny and warm which put a smile on Ivy’s face. She loved to walk around the park, taking in the sun. The bright rays reflected her mood and new outlook on life.

Things were starting to pick up for her as she fell into a routine. She would wake up and go to Tom’s house. Once there, she gathered and sorted his mail before opening anything which looked important. After that, she watered his plants. Talked to them, too. Ivy found plants were excellent listeners.

It helped, talking. The plants didn’t judge her. They also didn’t offer advice she didn’t ask for. And she appreciated it. Sometimes, one just needed to vent. Ivy always felt better when she was done with the plants. Her good mood was perfect for her daily phone call to Tom.

He too was often in a good mood—things were going well in Boston. Word of mouth was positive and bringing in crowds. And the reviews were good for the most part. “Of course there are some problems. No show is perfect. But that’s why we have these out of town tryouts,” Tom said.

There were things he wasn’t saying but Ivy wasn’t going to pry. He’d tell her when he was ready. And when that time came, Ivy would listen. “Or maybe he should talk to you guys,” she said to the plants.

About a month after leaving Boston, one of her calls with Tom took an interesting turn. She sat on his couch, staring at the plants as she chatted away. “I hope you don’t mind I’ve named your plants.”

“No, but you might have to label them for me when I come back. I don’t want to offend them.”

Ivy smiled; this was something she always liked about Tom. No matter her quirks, he always took them in stride and made them feel normal. “I will do that. Promise.”

“Good. Now, I have some news for you.”

“What kind of news?”

“Hopefully good. I’ve been talking to some people and Steven Oscar Rodgers is looking to put on a revue, like Songs for a New World.”

Sitting up, Ivy smiled. “Meaning he needs singers?”

“You bet. I know it’s not much, but it’s not a bad place to try and start again.”

“True. I’ll have my agent get on it.”

“He may be calling you. A little birdie told him to.”

Ivy thought her face was going to crack from how hard she was smiling. “Well, thank that little bird for me.”

She thought Tom paused a second too long before assuring he her he would. But she told herself she was being paranoid and ended the call with him. Joy spread throughout her, mingled with hope. This could be a big step for her to restart her career.

True to Tom’s word, her agent called her the next day to discuss the revue. “They want you to audition.”

“Of course! When and where?” She jotted down the information. “Thank you so much. Is there anything else?”

“Just a word of caution. This is just an invite to an audition. This is not a guaranteed part.”

“I understand.” But butterflies flew through her stomach. It may not be guaranteed but it was a start.

Ivy tried on ten different outfits before the audition. None of them seemed right. One seemed too revealing for an audition but another seemed too Victorian. Black was too dreary but she didn’t want to be too colorful. The brown? _No, the neckline is all wrong. The green? Skirt’s too short._

She sat down on the bed, garments strewn about her, feeling at a loss. This was the Equity hearing all over again. Which meant this wasn’t about the perfect outfit, she realized. No, it was about her nerves. The right outfit was on her bed. She needed to calm down and she’d find it.

After deciding on a navy blue dress, Ivy sat back satisfied. Her confidence was returning and it made her giddy. Now was the best time to choose her audition piece, before her doubts crept back in. Everything was going to be great.

The audition went well, she thought. She had decided to sing something from the catalogue of JOR, as people tended to call him. And she thought she had hit it out of the park. There was no way the part wasn’t hers.

She decided to treat herself, finding the nearest frozen yogurt place. Ivy sat outside in the park, relishing each spoonful.

“Well, I guess empty calories are better than alcohol.”

Ivy groaned at the sound of Avis’ voice. She shifted on the bench, looking at the woman. “What do you want?”

Avis sat down next to her. “Saw you at the JOR revue auditions.”

“Didn’t see you there.”

“Guess you were still hungover.”

Crossing her arms, Ivy glared at her. “I am clean. I have been for some time.”

“Good for you.” Insincerity dripped from every word. Avis stood. “Well, I hope you get a callback.”

Ivy’s eyes widened in surprise. “Thank you, Avis.”

Avis shaded her eyes from the sun to focus on Ivy. “You’re welcome. Besides, it’ll be sweeter when I crush you after callbacks then before. Ta!”

She strutted away as Ivy’s mouth fell open. _Typical Avis. Always has to put someone down when they’re in a good mood._

Ivy hurried down the street, running as fast as one could in heels. She kept an eye on the addresses, watching as they grew closer to her destination—Table 46. Racing down the steps, she entered the establishment and scanned the occupants. One of the producers for the JOR revue wanted to meet with her. It had to be good news; she felt it in her gut.

A man at a table in the back waved at her. Ivy smiled and walked over to join him. He pulled out a chair for her before returning to his own. “I am so glad you agreed to meet me,” he said.

“You’re glad? I’m glad you invited me. Thank you.”

He smiled. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“Water’s fine.”

“Oh, come on. Surely you want something harder?”

Ivy shook her head. “After Heaven on Earth, I’ve taken a break from alcohol.”

“That might be wise, but I hope you don’t mind if I have some.”

“No, go ahead. I won’t go crazy because people drink around me.” Ivy laughed as the waitress approached. She took their orders and left the two alone.

Playing with her skirt, Ivy glanced at the producer, Jeff. “So, why did you ask me down here?”

“Ahh, yes. I wanted to tell you that you blew us away with your audition.”

Ivy brightened. “Thank you. Can I tell you something?” She leaned closer, lowering her voice. “I was really, really nervous during my audition.”

Jeff leaned forward, also lowering his voice. “No one knew, I promise you. Wonderful acting.”

The waitress arrived with their drinks and Ivy sat back. She needed this moment; she had forgotten this was a producer. This was a professional meeting, not a personal one—no matter the venue. Ivy needed to be professional. As the waitress left, Ivy returned to her calm and cool businesswoman persona. “So, what did you wish to discuss?”

“Your performance.” He chuckled. “And you.”

“Oh?”

He nodded. “It was good, as I said. But everyone still has some issues with your behavior at Heaven on Earth.”

“I understand. And I’m trying my best to stay clean. I was embarrassed when I saw how I behaved. I am trying to make a fresh start and I need someone to take a chance on me.”

“Of course. And while both Tom Levitt and Derek Wills swore to the heavens about your professionalism, some of the producers still have doubts.”

Tom’s name wasn’t a surprise but Derek’s was. She recalled Tom’s pause and realized it must’ve been the Brit who suggested her to the producers. Ivy shook off her surprise. “I understand their doubts. What can I do to ease them? I adore JOR’s music and I would love to do this revue.”

Jeff smiled as he leaned back. “What can you do? Oh, I can think of something.”

His hand crept along the table, fingers brushing hers. Ivy glanced down, confused. Jeff began to rub circles on her hand and the confusion began to dissipate. Revulsion replaced it as Ivy’s stomach turned. Ice flowed through her veins though sweat started to bead at her hairline.

She pulled her hand away, forcing a coy smile to her face. “Oh, I’m certain there is something else I can do.”

Jeff let out a laugh which sounded like a seal barking. “Come on, Ivy, you’re not new to this game. We all know about you and Derek.”

Ivy’s stomach sunk as she let the ice in her blood enter her voice. “I was in a relationship with Derek. An actress falling in love with her director, nothing new. And nothing scandalous.”

“Don’t be naïve, Ivy. It’s not cute. Especially not in someone with your years in this business.” Jeff’s voice was hard. “I guess you don’t want that part as badly as you say.”

“I guess I don’t.” Ivy choked back tears. They wouldn’t help as Jeff stood and walked away without another word.

Ivy remained behind, staring at her water. She had been such a fool! How had she let herself be played? Jeff was right—she wasn’t some naïve newcomer. She knew her agent should’ve handled everything. That a bar was not an appropriate place for her to meet a producer. Covering her face with her hands, Ivy groaned.

“Tough day?”

Spreading out her fingers, Ivy glanced over at the young man who had sat down across from her. He didn’t look old enough to be working in a bar with bright brown eyes and matching hair. Between the two sat a plate with a cupcake. “Where did that come from?”

“I got it on my break. Been eyeing the place for awhile and finally broke down today. However, I think you need it more.” He pushed the plate closer to her.

Ivy lowered her hands, mouth open. “You don’t know me.”

“Well, I kinda do. You’re Ivy Lynn, right?”

She let out a nervous laugh. “I seem to be at a disadvantage here. And a little creeped out, not going to lie.”

“Oh, sorry.” A pink tinge came to his cheeks as he held out a hand. “Kyle Bishop and I promise I’m not a stalker.”

“So you know who I am because…?”

“I’m a Broadway aficionado.”

Ivy laughed. “Of course. I should’ve known.”

Kyle smiled. “Sorry, maybe I should’ve led with that.”

“Yeah.” Ivy pushed the cupcake back toward him. “I can’t accept it. Thanks for the kindness but the cupcake is yours. You keep it.”

He shook his head. “You need it. And I have to get back to work. Just, remember me the next time at the stage door.”

Ivy laughed and promised before he left. As she stared at the chocolate cupcake, she grew morose again. _If I can get on stage again…_ She sighed, taking a bite of the confection.

When she was done, Ivy approached one of the other waiters. She held out some money, motioning over to Kyle. “Hey, my date paid our bill but I wanted to leave a tip for that waiter. Can you give this to him?”

The waiter took the money and nodded. “Have a good evening, ma’am.”

Ivy thanked him before leaving Table 46. She doubted it would be a good evening.

“I’m sorry the revue didn’t work out. JOR said he loved you but the producers weren’t too sure.” The sympathy in Tom’s voice was grating and Ivy felt guilty about it. “I don’t know if there is anything else I can do.”

She sighed as she flopped on to his couch. “Probably not. Mr. Producer made that quite clear last night.”

“Why? What happened?” Tom’s voice took on a tone she knew well. Hard, with an edge to it. “Do you want me to do anything?”

Tom Levitt, Ivy’s Protector. It brought a smile to her face. “I don’t think you can. Thanks anyway. Do you want your messages now?”

“Yes, please.”

Ivy rattled off the messages, getting lost in Tom’s business. Lunch requests, project offers, the works. When she was finished, Tom thanked her which she brushed off. “Just doing my job. Anything else?”

“Yeah, I brought some suits to the dry cleaners and forgot about them. They’re threatening to donate them. Can you pick them up?”

“Of course. I’ll just need the ticket.”

“It’s in the top drawer of my desk.” Tom sighed. “While I hope you get a part on Broadway soon because it’s where you belong, I am going to miss having you as a personal assistant. This is probably the promptest I’ve been…ever…returning calls and the like.”

“Well, maybe I could moonlight for you,” Ivy said. She searched through Tom’s desk until she found the ticket. “Got it. Anything else?”

“Just for you to have a good day.”

“Thanks, Tom. Tell Sam I said hi and I’ll talk to him later.” She hung up and stared at the ticket. Looked like she had the rest of her day planned.

Finding Tom’s dry cleaner was no problem. Getting out was. This was not Tom’s first offense and the owner had a lecture for the man. And he was going to give it to Ivy in Tom’s place. She tuned him out early on, staring out the window instead. There was a bakery across the way and the face of the young waiter flashed in her mind. A plan formed in her mind and, cutting off the irate owner, Ivy took Tom’s clothes and left.

Chocolate cupcake in hand, Ivy returned to Table 46. It was almost closing time and the place was deserted. The waiter she was looking for was wiping down the bar as she set down the container. She smiled. “This is my thank you.”

Kyle’s mouth dropped open. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“Of course I did. My mother taught me to repay people who are kind. Well, actually my father did. My mother taught me breathing control.”

Laughing, Kyle picked up the cupcake. “Thank you. Now I’ll feel obligated to get you something.”

“I’ve had friendships built on stranger foundations than cupcakes.”

“Friends?” Kyle’s voice took on a high-pitched quality. “We’re friends?”

Ivy shrugged. “We could be, if you want.”

“I…I’d like that.”

“Bishop! Stop flirting and get to work. Unless you want to be here all night, locking up!” One man, who Ivy assumed was the manager, watched them with a red face and a frown.

Ivy flinched as she turned back to Kyle. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to get you in trouble.”

He shook his head as he waved her off. “Don’t worry. He’s always like that. Thanks for the cupcake. I hope I see you soon.”

“You will. I’m sure of it.” Ivy winked and walked off.

Halfway down the block, Ivy searched her purse for her metro card. She stopped, digging deeper. Nothing, not even her wallet. Ivy groaned, realizing she must’ve left it at Table 46. Turning on her heel, she hurried back to the restaurant.

The front door was locked but she figured it was worth a try anyway. Ivy leaned against it, deciding what to do next. She turned her head to find an entrance, most likely for the staff. No one was around and she could sneak in undetected. All she had to do was find Kyle, get her wallet and leave. Easy.

She got past the door, which led into the kitchens. It was empty and Ivy thanked her lucky stars. Walking down the hallway, she found her way to the bar area. And there, sitting on the counter, was her wallet. Relief washed through her as she grabbed the wallet. Now, she had to get out.

Music reached her ears, freezing her in place. It was a piano, playing an alluring melody. A male voice started to accompany it. His voice was raw but good; there was potential there.

“Ivy, what are you doing here?” Kyle appeared from a back room.

She raised her wallet so he could see it, but she was distracted by the music. “What is that song?”

Kyle’s voice took on a panicky tone. “Please don’t say anything. Jimmy’s not supposed to use the piano.”

“I’m not going to get you two in trouble. I like the song. Did he write it?”

“Bishop? Who you talking to out there?” A gruff voice called from another room.

He grabbed Ivy’s arm, leading her from the restaurant as he addressed the person. “Just Jimmy, Phil. I’m taking some stuff outside.”

“Okay. Don’t dawdle, Bishop!”

Kyle and Ivy exited into the alley. She faced him. “So, what was that song?”

“It’s called Broadway, Here I Come. One of the songs for the musical we’re writing, actually.” Pride filled his voice and his eyes lit up.

It brought a smile to Ivy. “Really? I’m impressed. Can I hear any of it?”

His smile faltered. “Jimmy’s a bit protective of it.”

“What harm can come from me hearing it?”

“I don’t know.” Kyle’s eyes darted to the door. “Look, Ivy, I have to get back inside.”

“Of course. But I want to hear about your musical-in-progress. Can you meet me tomorrow?”

“Sure!” The sparkle was back in Kyle’s eye. “Where and when?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So, as you can see, I’m deviating from season 2. It’s Ivy now who discovers Kyle and Jimmy. I’m going to explore how “Hit List” then develops under her guidance. How will it change? Will Ivy be the star? Will Karen get involved? What about _Bombshell_? Find out!


	8. Chapter Eight

### Chapter Eight

Times Square bustled with activity. People milled about the plaza, staring at the buildings and posing for pictures. Ivy loved to come here and people watch. One learned so much about people that way. How they interacted. What they said. What they didn’t say. It was fascinating.

“Ivy?” Kyle placed a hand on her shoulder. He held a folder bound by a rubber band under his other arm.

She smiled. “Thanks for coming. Have a seat.”

Kyle did so, placing the folder on the table. “Thank you for seeing me. It is so exciting to think someone like you wants to talk to someone like me!”

Ivy laughed. “Someone like me?”

“You’re theater royalty! Leigh Conroy’s daughter! I have her version of Anything Goes. I’ve played ‘I Get a Kick Out of You’ so many times, Jimmy has banned me from doing so while he’s in the apartment.”

Forcing the smile to remain on her face, Ivy nodded. He was so happy she did want her poor relationship with her mother to ruin it. “That is a good album.”

Kyle ducked his head. “Sorry. You probably get sick of having to talk about your mother. Is that why you don’t use the name Conroy?”

“No. It’s not my last name.”

“Oh. Well, as I said, not here to talk about your mother.” He patted the folder. “This is everything I could sneak out of the apartment.”

“Your friend really doesn’t want anyone to see this?”

He shook his head. “Jimmy’s a bit…paranoid. He’s had a rough life and he’s trying to turn it around. But he still feels the need to look over his shoulder everywhere he goes. I’m trying to help him.”

Ivy took Kyle’s hand. “You’re being a good friend. I’m sure Jimmy appreciates everything you’ve done. And perhaps this might help him.”

“Thanks. We’re still working on the story, so I brought the music. This is the song Jimmy was playing.” He handed her sheet music. “It’s called ‘Broadway, Here I Come.’ It’s our main song.”

She read over the lyrics, frowning. “It’s a bit…suicidal, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, the show can get pretty dark.”

“Jimmy working out his issues?”

Surprise flickered in Kyle’s eyes. “It’s not going to be a problem, is it?”

“No, not at all. Art is all about expression, right?”

“I meant about the show in general. Do you think it might be too dark?”

Ivy laughed. “I haven’t even heard the story! Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, okay?”

Kyle smiled. “You’re right. Perhaps you should first listen to the music.”

“Do you have a demo?”

“No.” Panic crept into Kyle’s voice. “Should we have one?”

Ivy held up her hands, placating him. “No, don’t worry. I know people who can play me the song. You got any more?”

He nodded, pulling out a few more sheets of paper. “This is ‘Caught in the Storm.’ And this one is ‘Good for You.’ The last one is a bit more upbeat.”

She gathered the papers up. “This will be great. Anything else? Can I get you something to eat?”

Kyle shook his head. “I should be heading back. My shift starts soon. Thanks anyway.”

They stood and Ivy shook Kyle’s hand as she wished him luck. His smile brightened all of Times Square before he took off. Ivy held his music close and hurried off in another direction.

“Are you sure Tom won’t mind?” Dennis leaned against the wall as he watched Ivy open the door to the composer’s apartment.

She nodded. “I have to water his plants anyway. And I’m sure he won’t mind you playing his piano. Especially for me.”

The door swung open and Ivy led Dennis inside. She motioned toward one of the rooms. “Piano’s in there. Make yourself comfortable and I’ll be there in a moment.”

Dennis nodded and wandered off. Ivy picked up the watering can, filling it at the sink. She heard Dennis check the piano to make sure it was tuned— _As if Tom wouldn’t keep on top of that!_ Ivy laughed.

Music filled the apartment. Ivy swayed a bit as she watered each plant, finding she was able to hum along with the tune. She wandered into the room with Tom’s piano. “Which song is that?”

“Good for You,” Dennis replied. “It’s quite catchy. But seems more of a pop song than a showtune.”

“That may be the point. Kyle hasn’t said much about the plot except that it’s dark, but he and Jimmy may want to use more pop-based music. Or make it a rock musical.”

Dennis nodded. “That’s possible. You want me to play ‘Caught in the Storm’ now? Or do you want to try and sing ‘Good for You’?”

“I want to hear the other song first, please.”

“As you wish.” Dennis turned back to the piano and began playing the other song. Ivy walked away to resist the temptation to read the lyrics. She wanted to hear the melody first, like she had with “Good for You.” Closing her eyes, she listened. There was anguish in the song and Ivy yearned to hear the words.

Dennis finished and twisted on the piano bench to face her. “What do you think?”

“I liked it. You?”

He nodded. “It’s good. Whoever wrote it has talent.” Dennis turned back. “You want to sing along now?”

“Yes, I do.” Ivy stood, approaching the piano. She leaned over Dennis, looking over the words for “Caught in the Storm.” As he began playing again, Ivy sang.

It was about getting caught up in a relationship despite the pain. Or perhaps because of it. She wasn’t sure. All she knew was the song spoke to her. This Jimmy Collins had managed to capture her relationship with Derek in his music. How she knew he was a cad yet continued until she got hurt.

The music stopped and they remained silent. Ivy heard only her deep breathing. “That was a great song.”

“I agree. These two really have something. You should encourage them to tape a demo somehow.”

She nodded. “I’ll do my best. The songwriter isn’t as willing as his partner to share his songs. He might balk at the idea.”

“Hope you can get him to come around. It would be a shame for no one else to hear these.” Dennis stood, kissing Ivy’s cheek. “Good luck.”

He showed himself out as Ivy looked over the music. She hoped Kyle could get Jimmy to come around.

This time, Kyle was the one waiting in Times Square. He sat at one of the red tables, bouncing in his seat as he watched the people hanging around the square. Ivy thought he looked adorable. She smiled as she approached the table, noticing the brown paper bag sitting in front of him.

He jumped up. “Ivy! Thanks for meeting me!”

“I think that’s my line. I called you, remember?”

Kyle laughed. “True, but I’m still so grateful that you’re giving me the time of day…”

She held up her hand. “Stop it. You make me sound like some hot shot rather than the disgraced chorine I am.”

“You aren’t. So you had a setback, so what? You’re still a star.”

Ivy slid into the seat closest to her and leaned on her arms. “You’re sweet and all, but I haven’t been a Broadway leading lady.”

“Yet.” Kyle’s voice was firm as he stressed the word.

“You’re sweet but I don’t think so. Did you see my setback?”

Kyle ducked his head. “Yeah, I did.” He lifted his head to look her in the eyes. “But I didn’t think it was something that could end your career. All you have to do is wait for the next scandal and you’ll be fine.”

Ivy smiled. “Do you want to be my publicist?”

He laughed as he shook his head. “I want to write a show that plays on Broadway. Do you think that’s possible?”

“Well, I haven’t read your script yet. But from what I heard of the music, you’re off to a good start.”

Kyle sighed. “It’s just getting Jimmy to come around and that’s going to be a problem.”

“Well, how about this? You get me a copy of your script to read while you work on bringing Jimmy around. How does that sound?”

“I think that’s doable. When do you want me to get it to you?”

Ivy chuckled. “Whenever you can have it ready. You have my number. Don’t be afraid to use it.”

“Thank you.” Kyle pushed the brown bag toward her. “I got this for you. As a thank you for everything you’ve done so far.”

He said his goodbyes and left as Ivy looked inside the bag. A warm cinnamon bun lay inside, enticing her. She moaned. “Oh, I can just imagine the workout I’m going to have to do after this!”

Taking the cinnamon bun from the bag, she took a big bite and let the cinnamon goodness sweep through her.

Kyle gave her the script a few days later but it took her longer to read it. She paced her apartment, staring at her phone. He was waiting for her call to give him her opinion on it. But Ivy didn’t know what to say. Or rather, she didn’t know how to say it.

A knock startled Ivy from her musings. She approached the door, wondering if Kyle had managed to find her apartment. Eyes narrowed, she called out: “Who’s there?”

“Candy gram!”

“What?”

“Delivery!”

“Who are you?”

“Really? We were roommates for five years and you don’t recognize my voice? I should be insulted!”

Ivy laughed as she threw the deadbolt and opened the door. Her former roommate, Allison Stewart, stood in the hallway with a smile on her face. The two women hugged each other before Ivy pulled her friend into her apartment.

Allison plopped down on the couch, pulling her friend with her. “I am in New York for a few days to argue with my publisher and I just had to see you. Tell me everything!”

“Slow down! Let me at least try to be a good hostess, okay? Can I get you anything?”

“Got any wine?”

Ivy shook her head. “Not since my incident. And I’m sure you know all about it, don’t you?”

“Yeah. I have a Google alert for you so I saw the video. Oh, Ivy, it wasn’t your finest performance.”

“You can say that again,” Ivy moaned. “And now my career is in ruins.”

Allison took her hand and gave it a squeeze. “Why don’t you get us something nonalcoholic to drink and then you can explain everything to me.”

When Ivy finished her tale, Allison shook her head. “You certainly have had a rough few months. Why didn’t you call me?”

Ivy shrugged. “I guess I figured you were too busy to hear me cry about how I screwed up my life.”

“Never! Though I guess it goes both ways—I could’ve picked up the phone and called you.”

“So, we suck at being friends. Agreed?”

Allison nodded before picking up Kyle’s script. “Well, it doesn’t look like your career is in complete ruins. This a script for a new show?”

“Yes, but it’s not being produced. I was reading it for a new friend who wants to write musicals.” An idea crept upon Ivy and she smiled. “Why don’t you read it? I’d love to have your opinion.”

Allison glanced at the script and shrugged. “Sure, why not? I like helping young writers.”

The next time Ivy met Kyle, she went to his apartment. It was Allison’s suggestion as she thought he would be more comfortable receiving the criticism in a place he knew. And in private. “You aren’t going to be too harsh, are you?” Ivy asked her.

Allison was silent for a few moments. “Look, everybody considers criticism harsh at first. No matter what I say, it will upset him. When I get criticism, I have to walk away for about a day before I can respond just because I know it will hurt at first. The day gives me time to gain perspective and to go back to it with some objectivity. Hopefully, Kyle will do the same.”

Ivy nodded as they paused outside Kyle’s door. She took a deep breath. “Here goes nothing.”

Kyle smiled as he opened the door though it faltered at seeing Allison. It returned to full force upon introductions. “Allison Stewart? I love your books! Jimmy makes fun of me for reading them but I don’t care.”

Allison thanked him as Ivy looked around. “Where is Jimmy?” she asked.

“He had some things to do. He’ll be gone for a while.”

Ivy sighed. “You’re going to have to tell him. He is writing the music.”

Kyle coughed and motioned to the couch. “Have a seat. Can I get you anything?”

The two women refused as they took a seat. Ivy made a mental note to push Kyle more about including Jimmy. But she would do it after he recovered from whatever Allison was about to say, she decided as she eyed the manuscript her friend pulled from her bag. Post-It notes covered the pages and there were also two loose leaf pages covered with Allison’s neat handwriting. _Don’t break Kyle, Ally. Please._

He was eyeing the script with nervous eyes. “What are those?”

“Notes.” Allison’s tone was matter-of-fact. “Every writer gets them. And every writer hates them. Necessary evil, unfortunately. So, let’s start with a question: Is this your first draft?”

“Yes. Why?”

“I want you to keep this in mind during my notes: All first drafts suck. No exceptions. Remember that.”

“O-okay.” Kyle’s voice shook and Ivy felt nervous for him.

Allison nodded. “Then let’s begin. I want to start with the characters. They are the heart and soul of the piece after all. And they are…well, one dimensional. You need to flesh them out a bit…”

Her criticism continued for a while. With each point, Ivy flinched. But she acknowledged the truth in Allison’s criticisms. And they all weren’t bad—she did praise some aspects of Kyle’s work. Ivy knew, though, the criticism hurt more. It was the same when she read reviews.

When Allison was finished, she gave Kyle a few minutes to process what she had said. Ivy thought his head was spinning. At last, Allison spoke again. “Well, what do you think?”

“You think it…sucks? That I suck?” Kyle stood as anger rose up through him. A red hue came to his skin as he balled his fists. It was a side to the young man Ivy had never seen.

Allison held up her hands in a placating manner. “Deep breaths, Kyle. I’m not attacking you. It may seem that way because of how personal our writing usually becomes. Just take a few moments and try to calm down.”

Kyle took a few deep breaths and sat back down in the chair. He held his head in his hands. Allison said nothing; she waited for Kyle to regain his composure. Once he did, he looked up again. “Sorry. You were saying?”

“I’m done.” Allison held out her copy of the manuscript along with her notes. “This is yours. My advice is to put it in a drawer.”  
“What? Why?”

Allison chuckled. “To give you perspective. Wait at least a day and then, whenever you feel ready, open the drawer and read it. You’ll see it in a whole new light.” She shuddered. “Ugh. Cliché.”

Kyle took his manuscript with wide eyes. “Thank you,” he stuttered out. He looked at Ivy. “Both of you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd admit I was upset at the end of "The Read Through," where it seemed that because Kyle's first draft was bad, then it must mean he had no talent. It seemed like a dangerous message for a show about artistic people to send out. No one thought to try and help Kyle get better. Nope, just cut Kyle's script out and use the songs. So I decided to remedy that and created Allison to mentor Kyle until Julia comes back from Boston.


	9. Chapter Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven’t forgotten this story! I am sorry to say that I did have to shelve it for a bit. But now I’m working on it again! Hope you enjoy it.

### Chapter Nine 

Allison left at the end of the week and Ivy was sad to see her go. “Can’t you stay? Please? It’s so lonely with everyone up in Boston.”

“I know. I wish I could stay too. But I’m needed across the pond, as the Brits say. I’d take you but you’re needed here.”

“Ah, yes. Tom’s plants would be very cross if I up and leave them.” The two women giggled like school girls before hugging again. Ivy sighed. “Don’t stay away too long this time, okay?”

Allison nodded. “I’ll do my best, I promise. And you keep an eye on Kyle for me, okay? He’s got the passion and some talent, he just needs the right tools and encouragement. Promise me you’ll support him and help him?”

“I promise.” Ivy held up the first three fingers of her right hand. Alison laughed and left.

*****

Kyle called a few days later, asking to meet Ivy in Times Square again. She found him by what had become their table, huddled against the unusually cold spring day. Gray clouds gathered over head and a storm threatened the city. Ivy approached Kyle, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Why don’t I treat you to lunch someplace warm?”

He nodded before following her to a nearby restaurant. They sat down, warming up before Kyle began to speak. “I finally opened the drawer.”

“And?”

“She is right about a lot. Though there are a few things I still disagree with. Does that mean I’m not ready?” The vulnerability and uncertainty in his voice nearly broke Ivy’s heart.

“Allison told me that you might say that. No, it doesn’t mean you’re not ready. She said it’s your story and only you know what works best for your story. You just have to be open to suggestions to improve it and figure out how to still stay true to your vision.”

“Well, our vision. The story is as much Jimmy’s as it is mine.” Kyle took a deep breath. “I guess I should tell him about my plans, huh?”

Ivy nodded. “I think that would be wise.”

“What should I do now? Besides telling Jimmy?”

“Allison left some suggestions. I have them on a piece of paper.” Ivy pulled the page from her bag and handed it to him. “These are classes she recommends. We looked them up and starred the ones which are free or have a relatively reasonable fee.”

Kyle pointed to another column on the page. “What are these? They don’t look like classes.”

“They aren’t. Those are grants. You and Jimmy can get money to help you nurture your show to life.” Ivy pointed to one in particular. “I think this one’s your best bet. The Jonathan Larson grant.”

His eyes widened. “Wow. I didn’t know I could get money to write my show.”

Ivy nodded. “Even more reason to tell Jimmy, right?”

Kyle frowned and shifted away from her. “Yeah, I guess so.”

Though she didn’t want to, Ivy moved away from the topic of Jimmy. She talked about the different classes and Kyle began to relax. _What is this Jimmy’s problem?_ she wondered. Ivy hoped to meet him soon to start figuring it out.

*****

“Ivy! You doing your best to not go crazy without me?”

The laughter in Sam’s voice made Ivy smile. She brushed a finger along a leaf attached to the nearby fern. “Sam the Plant is doing his best every day to make me smile.”

“You named a plant after me?”

“I named a plant after everybody. Didn’t Tom tell you?”

“He might’ve. Is Sam the Plant your favorite?”

Ivy stood, moving away from the plants she had lined up by the windowsill. She knew it was silly but she didn’t want to talk about them around them. “I don’t play favorites. It’s not fair to them.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” She lowered her voice. “Though Leigh the Plant and Karen the Plant compete for most needy daily.”

Sam’s laugh was a pure belly laugh. Ivy could see him hunched over, clutching his stomach as tears ran down his face. Her smile grew wider in response and she waited for him to catch his breath. Letting out a breath with an audible “whoo,” Sam resumed talking. “So, you’re keeping yourself entertained?”

“I’m doing my best. How are things going up there in Boston?”

“Oh, you know. Same old, same old. I want to hear about what you are doing in New York!”

Ivy returned to the couch, a glass of lemonade in her hand. “I think someone is avoiding the topic. Is something wrong?”

“What? No.”

“Really? You can tell me the truth, Sam. Is it Tom? Did he do something stupid?”

“Why do you assume it’s Tom?”

Ivy shrugged though she knew he couldn’t see her. “I’ve just been through several of Tom’s relationships. He usually does something wrong to end the relationship because he’s panicking.”

“That…does sound like Tom. But that’s not it. He’s been holed up with Julia working on the problems in Bombshell. We’re trying new things every day, it seems. So that’s why I said nothing is going on—because it’s nothing that isn’t expected at this time.”

“True. I guess I was hoping for some gossip.” Ivy sighed. “And nothing is really going on here.”

“Don’t worry, things will pick up.” Sam paused. “But if you want some gossip…”

This caught Ivy’s attention and she straightened up on the couch. She knew she shouldn’t be so eager to hear about someone else’s misfortunes but she believed in schadenfreude, and not just the song from _Avenue Q_. “Oh?”

“I think Julia and Frank are having problems again.”

Ivy’s brow furrowed. “Why do you say that? Isn’t Julia busy with Tom?

Sam sighed. “Yeah, but Frank had to go back to the city and Michael is a man with nothing to lose. I think Julia keeps Tom in her room just to avoid running into Michael.”

“Wow.” She shook her head. “I didn’t think he was that desperate.”

"I know. So I think Tom’s just obliging her and I can’t be angry at him for that.”

“Aww. You’re such a good boyfriend.”

Sam chuckled. “And I’m trying to be a good friend. So tell me about this new project I heard you’re working on.”

“How did you hear about that?”

“A little bird.”

“Named Allison?”

“Allison was there? Really? Damn it—I always miss her! Is she coming back soon?”

Sam’s voice sounded sincere and she sighed. Allison did not tell him. “Then what’s the name of your bird?”

“Not telling. Especially since you keep dodging my questions.”

“Okay, okay, fair enough. But there isn’t much to tell.”

When she was finished, she waited for Sam’s comments. “Has Kyle mentioned what this Jimmy’s problems are?”

“Not in detail and I’m not pushing yet.”

“But you think it’s bad?”

“I know it’s bad. Kyle pretty much said so. I just don’t know how bad.”

“Good luck. You know, this could be your vehicle to return to Broadway.”

“I know, but that’s not why I’m helping him.”

Sam chuckled. “I was just teasing you. I know you’re helping him because you like to see new talent in the industry.”

“Honestly? It’s because Kyle reminds me of Tom. When I’m with him, I feel like I’m with Tom at the start of his career.”

“And therefore with Derek?”

“What?” Ivy sat up, confused. “Why do you say that?”

“Wait, you didn’t know?”

“Know what?”

“Tom and Derek used to be best friends when they were younger and first hit the theater scene. They had a falling out many years ago. I thought you knew.”

“No.” Ivy shook her head. “I guess you learn something new every day, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess. Look, Ivy, I’ve got to go. It was good talking to you.”

“You, too, Sam. I miss you.”

“Miss you, too. Be good.”

*****

Two days later, she got a call from Kyle. “Hey, Ivy. Look, Jimmy and I are having a party tonight. I was wondering if you’d like to come?”

Ivy smiled. “I’d love to! Can I bring anything?”

“Your own alcohol. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. It’s not the first BYOB party I’ve been too and probably won’t be the last. I’ll be there.”

“Great! Can’t wait!” Kyle’s voice sounded excited yet nervous. Ivy wondered why for a moment before the answer came to her: Jimmy. She was going to meet the mysterious Jimmy at this party.

And it made her nervous.

She scoffed; why should she be so anxious? What could he do to her? Nothing, she told herself. She had been helping Kyle and if Jimmy didn’t like that, fine. It was his problem.

Drifting into her bedroom, Ivy started to go through her closet to find the perfect outfit for that night. If she was going to meet Jimmy, she was going to wow him.

*****

Walking out of the subway, Ivy stopped to get her bearings. She had been to Kyle’s only once and need to recollect where to go next. _Go to the corner and make a left. Then go two blocks, make a right. It’s a few apartments in._

She took a deep breath and began walking, acting more confident than she felt. People were looking, she knew, and she hoped it was because of how she was dressed. Ivy had chosen to go with a classic little black dress, the one she usually wore to auditions. The cut showed off her legs and her chest, hugging her curves. Every woman needed a little black dress and this was hers.

Kyle opened the door when she arrived, smiling. “I’m so glad you could come! Please, come on in!”

He stepped aside to let her in. People lounged about the loft, music blaring from someone’s computer in the corner. Some danced to it, writhing together in the mating ritual of hipsters. Deciding to avoid that corner, she drifted over to some people standing by open boxes of pizza. Taking a slice, Ivy smiled and introduced herself.

“Nice to meet you, Ivy. What do you do?” The guy who asked her took a sip of his beer. He wore a knit cap despite the warm night and lack of fans in the apartment. A tattoo was partially covered by his flannel shirt and his jeans were too tight to be comfortable, Ivy believed.

She forced herself to meet his eyes. “I’m an actress, on Broadway.”

Knit Cap Guy’s girl leaned forward, getting a closer look at Ivy. “Oh, yes, I recognize you! You’re the one from that internet video! The one who was drunk on stage in the angel costume.”

 _Internet infamy. It lasts forever._ She sighed. “Yes, that was me. Not my greatest performance.”

Knit Cap Guy shrugged. “I liked it. Thought it was a deep statement about art today.”

“Uh huh.” Ivy looked for an escape route. Nothing. This was not her usual crowd; there was no one she could use to extract herself. Even Kyle was nowhere to be found. _Where did he go? It’s not a big place._ She took a deep breath and put on a smile. “Wish I could say so, but I was just drunk.”

“Oh.” Knit Cap Guy was disappointed. “Too bad.”

The group drifted to other topics Ivy had no interest in, so she grabbed a beer and walked away. She found a spot on the threadbare couch and plopped down to wait for Kyle.

Someone slid in next to her. “You’re a new face around here. How did you find out about our little soiree?”

“Kyle invited me.” She turned to face the speaker. He was a young man around her age with brown hair and dancing brown eyes. The bottle of beer in his hand was half drunk but Ivy was certain something else had caused him to be so cheerful. The apartment reeked of it and she was certain she would leave with a contact high. And with the video still haunting her, she believed it was best she leave before that.

But something about this man enthralled her. And she didn’t know what it was. Maybe it was his eyes. Or his smile. Whatever it was, she found herself settling into the couch and smiling.

The man shook his head. “I think you’re barking up the wrong tree. You’re not Kyle’s type.”

Ivy laughed. “I know. We’re just friends.”

“Just checking. You never know.” He laughed. Ivy loved it.

She held out her hand. “Name’s Ivy Lynn.”

“Jimmy Collins.” He shook her hand. “I’m Kyle’s roommate.”

Ivy’s eyes widened. So this was the Jimmy Kyle was talking about? The one who wrote those beautiful songs? _He doesn’t seem too bad._

He stared at her and she realized she had not ended the handshake. Dropping her hands, she laughed nervously. “Sorry. I got a little lost.”

“In my eyes?” Jimmy smirked before laughing. “Don’t worry, it happens. Anyway, how do you know Kyle?”

“We met at his work. He cheered me up when I was feeling down.”

Jimmy chuckled. “That sounds like Kyle. He loves to help people.”

“I noticed that. And I like to think I’ve helped him.”

“Really?” Jimmy leaned back to better look at Ivy. “How so?”

Ivy bit her lip, choosing the right way to word her response. “I’m in the theater and…”

Jimmy held up his hand. “Say no more. I know Kyle. Do I need to apologize for anything?”

“No, not at all.” Ivy shook her head. “I’ve enjoyed all our conversations. He’s very passionate.”

“Yes, he is.”

Ivy decided it was now or never. “He’s told me about the musical you two are writing. In fact, he’s shown me a couple songs and…”

“SON OF A BITCH!” Jimmy’s demeanor changed. His face grew red and his gaze hard. Throwing down his beer bottle, he jumped up from the couch. Beer splashed up as the bottle smashed against the wooden floor. Ivy pulled up her legs to avoid the splatter before jumping off the couch herself to race after Jimmy.

She found him in the kitchen, where he had cornered Kyle. “You gave her my music? How could you?”

“It’s my music too! Or did you forget that?” Kyle fought back, face also growing red. “Why can’t I show it off?”

“Because it’s private!”

Ivy stepped in. “It’s good. It needs some polishing…”

Jimmy’s cold laughter interrupted her. “Hear that? She says it’s good but then puts it down.”

“That’s not what I meant. I complimented and said it could be better than it is. Don’t you want it to be the best?” Ivy challenged.

He got closer to her. “I recognize you now. Kyle showed me a video of you. You’re the one who performed drunk on stage.”

“Yes, I did. But I fail to see what that has to do with this.” Ivy stood her ground. Jimmy was not going to intimidate her.

But he wasn’t going to budge either. Jimmy crossed his arms, smiling like he had caught her in a trap. “Why should we take advice from you? You’re a train wreck!”

“Jimmy!” Kyle stepped forward, astonished.

Ivy held up her hand, stopping him. “I was a train wreck. And I’m trying to straighten myself out. But I still know this industry. I know what has a chance and what doesn’t. And I know how to improve those chances. If you are serious, you’ll let me help you.”

“Jimmy, maybe we should. It’ll help us achieve our dream.” Kyle was trying to persuade his friend to listen to reason.

But Jimmy would not be persuaded. “We said we would do it on our own. And we’re gonna do it that way.”

“Why do you insist we do it on our own?” Kyle’s voice was getting louder. “There’s nothing wrong in asking for help.”

“You don’t understand!”

Kyle’s eyes watered. “Then help me to!”

“I think I’ll go now. You two have things to discuss.” Ivy backed away from the two roommates. “Thanks for the invite, Kyle.”

She walked away but heard heavy footfalls behind her. Not looking back, she increased her pace. This was not her fight. Kyle and Jimmy had to work it out themselves.

“You’re not walking away!” Jimmy barked at her as he followed her. “This is your fault! You are going to fix it.”

Ivy stopped and spun on her heels. “Me? This is not my fault. So stop blaming me. You have issues you need to work out.”

“What issues?” Jimmy crossed his arms.

She mimicked his posture. “Let’s start with your insistence that you get to Broadway on your own. You are going to need help somewhere along the way. Producers, a director, choreographer, musicians, stagehands. Most of those belong to unions, so you need someone who can negotiate with them. And people to help you with so much more.

“Are you scared someone is going to steal your work? I promise you I won’t. And I’ll make sure you guys work with people who are respectable, who wouldn’t do that. You just have to trust me.”

Jimmy didn’t respond. Ivy sighed. “I think you need to think about things. When you have your answer, let me know. Kyle has my number.”

Ivy turned around and walked away, not caring to see Jimmy’s reaction. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was what he did after that. She hoped it was the right thing.


End file.
